Capitulation
by Moofins
Summary: D/C. She had always heard that he had an obsessive personality, yet she had never paid much mind to it. Unfortunately for her, he had every intention of showing her just how pleasurable rebellion could be.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The characters are © Fresh TV Inc. / Teletoon, but the plot is mine.

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"_Do not bite at the bait of pleasure, till you know there is no hook beneath it."_

Thomas Jefferson

It had been said that opposite personalities attracted each other. A law of science, therefore it could be applied to life in the flesh. Thankfully, repeated offenses by the young and willing to love proved this theory incorrect; in fact, if the product of affection an individual had was completely different without common ground, the relationship faltered and would end shortly after.

That was of course assuming that one of those individuals would stop as soon as the other yielded. If one of the victims of lust were unrelenting then surely common ground could be found and could be taken advantage of.

This was what he was counting on, he did, after all, get what he wanted when he set himself to it. And oh how very tempting the girl was, she was unaware of the thoughts she inspired in him, so blissfully naïve to the indulgences he wished to take within her form. The only problem that arose within his eyes was that the darling girl never gave him a second glance, she was too absorbed within her studies or latest involvement with modern day society to take in the tempting offers he would present to her when no one else could hear. Or was it that had he only fantasized about placing those seeds of deviance into her mind?

He could feel himself shrug in indifference as he sat in the uncomfortable desk, his long frame not finding comfort easily within its metal and wood confines. It was not as if he would not sow the soil and plant those thoughts when the time came, however it was all about timing. Unfortunately, he had never been one to sit back and relax while what he wanted could saunter around and build defenses to the upcoming on slot. The blue eyed man had to constantly remind himself that it was a waiting game and that if he were to catch the ultimate prize he would have to play his cards right, create a cloud of confusion around her, and make her fall. He would be there to catch her only if she understood what he wanted, and what she needed.

As she finished the speech she was giving at the head of the classroom she smiled and waited for the teacher to hand her a compliment on how she did, hands clutched around the index cards and her back rigged. Like clockwork, she ceased to move until the older man sang praises of how she researched the topic flawlessly. He watched as her full lips turned up at the corners and she allowed her shoulders to relax, his own following suit—he failed to notice how he was tense before she had calm downed. The hoppy bounce that she called a walk made him take a deep breath in, even as she gave a light high-five to the blonde haired girl that she associated so closely with, the very same blonde-haired girl that was cavorting around with one of his own friends.

How was it that she could circle around him so closely, yet never pay attention?

How was it that she could circle around him so closely, and he could resist temptation?

He could almost ignore the fact that she looked upon him with distaste, only for her to take long glances at him when she thought he was not looking. She could fake disinterest, but the underlying feeling was there. She had felt the sparks, and it was wrong for her to deny him. Ah, Courtney Callahan thought that she would get away from her senior year unscathed. How wrong she was. She did not understand that Duncan Mahone was not going to give up the long haul to win her over, that his teasing was a view into something more.

The way he figured it, he should have been given a medal for how long he waited. Courtney felt safe with where she was socially, and thought she was confident within herself. Oh, he would do her a favor and make that change. After all, life was not fun without the spontaneous. Who else fit the bill to make her life turn upside down other than he? No one, and he would convince her that walking on the wild side and straight into his embrace would be the best thing she could do.

Tilting his head to the side he heard a pop, followed by the feeling of released pressure. Just as he was about to train his eyes back onto the object of his obsession he heard the bell ring, he could only watch as she twisted her lithe body around and grab her bag. Unfortunately, she didn't turn around to see him, her jaw was moving and he could only guess that she was talking to her friend about potential plans for studying. Frustrated that everyone around him seemed to up their volume as he tried to listen, he stood up from his overly confining desk and listened for what she was saying. _"Yeah, Bridgette I totally have to go to the library for like, a half hour. So we can study tomorrow—I don't want to hold you up tonight."_

Suddenly Duncan felt as if Christmas had come early and his gift was presented to him in the form of a library trip. Luckily for him the plan could be set in motion far sooner than he ever anticipated, and he was never one to pass up such an opportunity.

* * *

Author's Note: Alright, this is my first fanfiction _ever_. So critique is definitely welcomed, and needed (but I would love other reviews as well, I want to know what you think and what I should change). I never thought I would write a fanfiction for this show, really, and it is more experimental than it is meant for anything else. You know, testing the waters for future stories. But I would love to hear what you think so far! I know it is a bit strange for me to take an obsession twist….still, I like that sort of thing and I just wanted to corrupt the story. :]

Oh, this is also alternate universe. There was no camp, and they are all seniors in high school; at least that is where I plan on them being.

I'm sorry for reposting it, I was playing around with settings and it vanished so…yeah. :[ Sorry for the inconvenience, those of you that read it!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The characters are © Fresh TV Inc. / Teletoon, but the plot is mine.

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_I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,  
hunting for you, for your hot heart,  
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue_

Pablo Neruda

Courtney had never considered herself as an individual that got worked up over nothing, no, she was always cool and composed and nothing could shake her from that. Of course, everyone disagreed with her and said that she was one of the most anal-retentive people that they had ever met—that her drive for absolute perfection was both a gift and a heavy hindrance. Where she excelled in schoolwork she lacked in social graces, always placing people on the back burner as they could hold her back later. There were exceptions to the rule, naturally, but they were few and far between.

If her mother were around Courtney had no doubt that she would have forced her to be more sociable, to build bridges and not burn them shortly after construction. Subconsciously she thought so, at least. Of course, there was no way of knowing for sure, her memories of her mother were short and that was all. The photographs she had with her were old and yellowed with age, either from her youth or from her early childhood. Unfortunately, the power of recollection did not resonate within Courtney until…well…never. It still had not. One of the reasons that she had to spend copious amounts of studying was embodied in the fact that it took repetition for her to remember anything at all.

Which was why she was sitting in the library at that moment, her head in a book that covered George Washington's entire life, her AP Government class required her to read such a historical novel but nothing had seeped into her mind. Around the small table she had scattered index cards, color coated for the category in which it belonged; facts, quotes, biography, and legacies.

After jotting down that he was an Episcopalian she took a frustrated huff. She was far from satisfied with the work she had done in the library, and she knew who was to blame. Duncan Mahone. That infuriating bastard of a man who, for some reason, set her skin on fire. Whether from irritation or loathing, she didn't know.

When she was finishing her speech in her last class, she felt his eyes on her, and only her. While giving her speech she took special care to avoid the upper most left hand of the classroom, where she had mentally placed him. He was absolutely _infuriating_! Courtney absolutely refused to believe that the man had a clean square inch on his body, and she was also quite sure that he had _gotten off_ his latest probation by _getting _her _off_. She scoffed at the idea of him doing something right and would bet money that he would never amount to anything in his life; _harsh, Courtney_, part of her mind contested, only to be brushed off yet again a second later.

He deserved absolutely no pity.

However, he didn't care that she thought of him as waste. It was only after he called her _Princess_ that she adopted the ideology that he was "a repulsive and chauvinistic pig who only had the mind to use women as objects." Frankly, she was right. Duncan knew that she knew, and he liked that. He reveled in the thought of turning her own body against her until she was just as fascinated with him as he was with her, it would not take long. In the past half hour he had outlined his plan of attack, blueprinting how it would all come together. It was a quarter to four and the halls were all but deserted, and if Courtney was a creature of habit (_she is_) she would return her books into her locker before retiring to her car.

Duncan's lean frame leaned up against the nook between a space of lockers, hiding between the blank space between the water fountain and the dark green of the cool metal. The initial shock of the cold faded quickly as the heat radiating from his back warmed the steel, although it was enough to clear the slight fog that had settled over his mind. That haze always seemed to roll in like a storm whenever he felt one of his plans going into action; the thrill of the chase, the idea of being caught red handed. It made him grin like a small child and he immediately wiped the amused look from his face, if he was going to play the part of the seducer he could not be grinning like a boy without experience.

Flicking his wrist he looked at the time, the hands telling him that time was not passing as quickly as he so intensely desired.

Any moment she would come around, if she didn't then he would have to alter his original idea and corner her in the library. And it was _far_ too early for that scenario.

As if the Goddess of Fate had heard his intense wish, he heard a light humming sound that was indicative of Courtney's arrival to her locker. By the sound of clinking on the ground followed by an explicit uttering of a word, he could only guess that she had dropped the key to her lock. Craning his neck around the locker, he saw the shorthaired girl grab her books tightly while bending down to retrieve the lanyard-less set of keys. "How did you do it…I couldn't say…years built on sand…June until May…" The light tune of her voice had Duncan decide that when he had her under his thumb he would have to have her sing to him, yet he was stirred from his reverie as she opened up her locker.

Now was his chance.

Moving as swiftly as a snake and just as silent he came up behind her, the lights above not hinting to his position as the tall boy hovered over the petite girl. Palm out, he placed his hand on the locker next to hers, his eyes briefly looking up to the number in case she had changed it. "Why hello there, Princess." His head had swiveled to the shell of her ear, and as her back stiffened visibly he sneaked his other hand onto her stomach to hold her still; her small hands automatically clasped over them in her fright as she attempted to register who it was. It took a pin drop for her to realize that the only individual who dared to call her Princess was the one, the hated, Duncan.

Before she could yell at him he continued talking into her ear, and she noted how his voice was different. It was hotter, almost thick (much like her tongue in her mouth), but heavy. The tone was something she was foreign to and in turn felt compelled to strain for the nuances that were neatly hidden away. "You know, pretty little girls shouldn't stay this late. You never know who will come along and surprise you." Duncan's warm breath made her heart beat like a bird trapped in a cage and she attempted to stop swallowing her tongue and assess the situation.

His body seemingly encased hers and it warmed her to her bones, until she realized just what was going on.

One. She was cornered. Two. She was touching Duncan. Three. Duncan cornered her against the lockers. And four. She was reacting adversely and was clearly ill; pepto bismol was in order when she got home.

"Duncan! Just what _are_ you doing?!" Courtney's voice, although wanting to be strong and filled with anger, came out at a fraction of her normal volume. Wiggling in his grasp she huffed angrily until she realized that his arm had snaked around her waist like a vine and was now immovable. "I swear! If you do not let me go _this instant_ I will—_oh what are you DOING!_" Cohesive thought was lost as she felt a very moist pressure on her neck; it took only a second for her to realize that was his _mouth_. The action made the hairs on her body stand up on end and a gasp to leave her mouth before she had the sense to bring one of her hands up to her mouth to silence it.

His mouth traced a lean line on the smooth column of her neck and as he left one place the other was hit with the sting of the cool, recycled air that the school offered. It was wrong, she knew it was, "Duncan, I think you have the wron—" thoughts were silenced as he brought his mouth back up to her ear.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me, Miss Callahan?"

_Oh, this is so bad._ Courtney could not help but bite the bottom of her lip and shook her head, her rational instincts rebelling against her fatal flaw.

"We will have to fix that, won't we?"

Much sooner than the prior reaction, she shook her head "no." Duncan failed to contain a grin, and she could feel him nod against her cranium. "You are right. It is much too soon, there is no fun in that." She didn't understand what he meant, and all too soon the pleasant (_unpleasant?_) stimulation of him at her back disappeared. Suddenly feeling bereft, she whipped around to give him a stern yelling at. Dark eyebrows knitted together as she realized that he was gone.

Bringing a clammy hand up to her neck she rubbed furiously at the angry mark that would surely appear there soon, confused and bereft. Reaching down she pinched herself and quickly yelped in pain, "ouch!" _Well that means that you are not dreaming, Courtney. Or maybe you are and this is just one of those really, really realistic dreams. Only…that was a nightmare, not a dream. No, no what a creep! I should file a charge against him! But then he'd get in even more trouble than he usually does…then again Courtney you don't care!_

As she struggled to regain the variables that had forced their way into the constants of her life she came to one conclusion: she needed to go home. In the morning, she would ask for a locker transfer. That would solve it, _Duncan just has some sick fascination with the locker. I'm sure he corners everyone who has it._

Situation assessed to the full of her current abilities, she grabbed tightly to her books and looked around both ends of the hallway. No sign of Duncan, anywhere. There was a female form at approximately forty lockers away that appeared to be a teacher, but she paid it no mind as she could barely coordinate the slightly sloppy measure of her steps as she began to head to the nearest exit. She needed the fresh air and walking around the school, out in the open, was a hell of a lot safer then finishing the trek out to the parking lot through the school.

_First Duncan, then who? The janitor?_ That thought made her pace gain speed and as soon she touched the cold metal of the door, and as she stepped out into the midday light she could only say one thing.

"Freedom!"

* * *

Author's Note: I _never_ thought I would be one of those authors that would get very gushy over her reviewers, but golly, having such nice reviews really made my day. :] Talk about fuel for actually pumping out a chapter! Thank you, it really makes me feel better where my writing is concerned.

I tried to make this longer, and I am only semi-pleased, but hey…it is very late/early in the morning. I promise that Courtney will be more…Courtney, and Duncan more Duncan-y soon, but it is hard starting it all up when I've never done this before. Obviously they are deviating slightly from the original characters, but that is the fun, right?!

Right! ;D

Thank you all, again, for reviewing…and I hope you enjoy this; I certainly would have been slower writing it if it wasn't for you.

PS: I will probably use Pablo Neruda for many of the quotes. The man is amazing.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The characters are © Fresh TV Inc. / Teletoon, but the plot is mine.

_Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast._

Lewis Carroll

The further Courtney walked from the hallway, the more ashamed she felt. She could feel her cheeks burn hot, and she could only imagine that she had the appearance as a tomato at the moment; yet that could hardly be helped. _Jesus Courtney! You should have just let him have his way with you. You were practically jello, and he knew it. He got to you and you let him see._ Pausing slightly, she ran that thought over in her head again. That was it, it was just a game; Duncan was just playing a game.

This revelation caused her pace to slow, and the butterflies within her stomach to settle.

She did not understand what Duncan was up to, but it was clear that it was a game. It was just _like_ him to do this to her, after all he was absolute scum that could not be trusted. That kind of man walked the earth to make women like her fall from grace, but no. She would not fall victim (_to what?_). It was enough that her body betrayed her on the worst scale, but he knew that he could get under her skin.

"That _ogre_! Damn him!" After the word left her mouth she clasped her hand over her lips, looking around the parking lot that she had just entered to make sure that no one had seen her use such crude language.

It was not like her and she had an image to uphold. Overreacting to someone cornering her and coaxing a perverse reaction from her body was something that she would not do. There was a rational explanation of all of it, and it was up to her to figure it all out before he decided that he'd make another move.

Picking her keys out from her pocket, she eyed the set through lowered lashes, picking out the car key and palming it within her left hand. She was sure to whip her head around a few times to make sure that she was alone; heavens knew that she did not have the mental clarity to deal with any more….surprises.

Opening up the champagne (_heather mist, the woman told me_) colored door, she slinked into the leather seat—only to yelp in pain at the temperature. All but throwing her books into the passenger seat she forcefully hit her head on the steering wheel and half-groaned, half-screamed at her predicament. After the impact to her skull, however, she deigned herself an idiot and rose up to rub the now sore spot. First she'd have a hicky on the slick part of her neck (_that was NOT a kiss_), and now she'd have a hideous red mark on her forehead that would probably bruise. Lesson learned: _Stop. Being. So. Stupid._

With a blooming headache upon her horizon, she started her car with a swift flick of her wrist and was sure to reach other with her right hand to turn down the volume of the music she was listening to this morning.

Ever the careful driver, she proceeded out of the parking lot and began to work her way home. "Okay Court, get your mind off of it. Think about…your duties as the class president!" With a triumphant smile, she allowed her mind to flip into Presidential Mode. She was quoted as saying that if she were going to be a future CEO, then she would have to be able to make the transition between her personal life and professional life. Although she would hardly consider Duncan's actions as being a part of her personal life, she would never categorize something sexual within her professional life; she was not some low life prostitute that would do bend to the wills of a sexual deviant.

Before she knew it, she was pulling up to her decently sized home in the suburbs. Pulling out to the curb, she stepped out of the car and started to cross the lawn, not before locking the door to her car and setting the alarm. With a tired sigh she noted that she had to cut the grass this weekend, and the hedges could use trimming as well. She could already feel her arms cramping up from the primitive hedge clippers that probably weighed a third of her own weight.

Going around to the back of the tailored house, she entered through the back door, knowing that if she had to go through the front she would meet her father and would have to play twenty questions as to where she had been until now. In fact, she doubted that he even knew she was currently enrolled in high school and therefore had high school responsibilities. Upon entering, she peered her head into the kitchen and noted the open wine bottle, and sighed in relief. It was a wine night, which meant that he would be fast asleep by the time she got home after her shift and she could tidy up the home. It wasn't that the house was a pigsty (_liar_) it was that it was not up to her standards, and when her father drank he took it upon himself to sully the work that she did. It was old news by now, and she had learned to avoid her father when he was in one of _those moods_.

Entering her room, she turned on the light that shined from the white walls, bouncing around until it soaked into the dark purple duvet. Turning back around she locked the door, making sure that the dead bolt she had installed was working by jiggling the handle.

Her father was not a bad man, a businessman that was a hard working and blue-collar. What changed him, what changed the father-daughter relationship that had long since dissipated, was alcohol. Her grandmother once told her that her father was a great man before her mother died, and she would be inclined to believe her except she didn't have to live with the beast that was never happy until his liquored stupor thrust him into oblivion.

He never spared words for her when he was awake, claiming that she was heartless, that she thought she was better than him, her mother would be so ashamed that her daughter didn't care about her father, that she was a stuck up bitch that was too good for him. It hurt, but she merely absorbed the blows and took it as more fuel for everything she ever wanted to accomplish. She would rather die than become such a shallow slip of a human being. He said she thought that she was better than he was, and he was right. She fully believed that she was.

Making her way over to her closet she scoured through the color-coded hangers until the shirt she wore for work appeared. Pulling out the black T-shirt she noted how the sewn "FINNIGANS" logo was fraying; suddenly her need for everything to be perfect got a hold of her and she had to take a moment to close her eyes and coach herself to believe that it was just a shirt. No one was going to judge her based on frayed gold lettering. Courtney had to take a few deep breaths before slipping off her fitted shirt for the baggy replacement, advertising the local toy store and her place of employment.

She knew that state senators did not work in toy stores before going into their offices, but it provided the best community service opportunities. Of course, the children always brightened up her day as well, yet seeing that she worked the night shift it was not often that she got to see the joy of a child getting a toy for good behavior. Even if they did come in, Owen usually rung them up; mainly due to the fact that he was such a child at heart that the kids seemed to gravitate toward him. A life sized teddy bear? Courtney thought so.

After running a brush through her hair, she allowed herself to sit on the edge of the bed and take a special interest in the lone ink stain that was in her rug. Most says she would think of how to get the stain out, feeling that it marred the white perfection of the rest of the rug. "_That must be why God created rug cleaners! Put that on a list, Courtney!_" She had, the post it staring at her on her mirror, but no such thought crossed her mind. Instead, she was plagued by the vision of a rebellious man that could not have been much older than herself, yet carried himself as if he had lived more than a lifetime longer than she.

Her hand skated up to rub the spot where he had orally assaulted her, it had long since dried and if her perfect vision said anything in the mirror it was that he had applied just enough suction to tease the flesh. It was just behind her hairline, and she was grateful, for that meant that she could hide it from the world. What alarmed her was that she _didn't_ scream (_I was just in a state of shock, is all_), that she _didn't_ kick him where it hurt (_partially because he had me trapped_), and that he had left her with a ominous goodbye (_if you could call it that_).

"_Do you have any idea what you do to me, Miss Callahan?" _

No. She didn't, and frankly she didn't want to know what she did to him. Moreover, she wanted to ask him what he did to _her._ How could he render her speechless? Courtney Callahan was _never_ without something to say, yet he accomplished it.

"_We will have to fix that, won't we?" _

Again, no. They would not _fix _it. The incident would be left alone, locked in a chest within the well of her mind, and forgotten. Forever. (_Duncan, who?_)

"_You are right. It is much too soon, there is no fun in that."_

That was what got her, she did not understand what he had meant. Clearly he thought that this was a game and that she was simply a pawn. Of all the things she had learned from cheesy romance novels (_not that I have read any_) it was that men that used women for sport were not to be trusted. They couldn't possibly have the young woman's best interest in mind, and she would never think that Duncan was capable of something as generous as thinking of others before himself. Then again, why was she even thinking of him like this?

So, he had excited her, that was not much of a feat. She had _heard_ of all the _experience_ he had in the field, and it was nothing particularly outrageous for someone to excite a virgin. He had also snuck up on her, so she couldn't prepare herself for the attack.

If she could stay at least fifteen feet away from him at all times, everything would be fine.

Suddenly a ringing of her phone woke her from her daydream. Picking it up she noticed that no one had called her (_they never do_) and that it was the alarm she had set to tell her that she was running late to get to work. _Work…_It was four-forty-five and Courtney nearly fell from her bed as she stood. "Oh, shit!" if she was late, she was going to give that pig a piece of her mind. Somehow. That didn't involve touching him or being within the set radius that she had set as distance between them.

Now was not the time to think about revenge, however, and it was time to get out of the house before she was further incased within unwanted thoughts.

* * *

Author's Note: I think around 2,000 words is a good length for chapters, don't you agree? Of course, I could make them longer if you'd like. Do people even read these? Hm. Well, if any of you are wondering, the song that Courtney was "singing" last chapter was a song called The Big Fight by The Stars. I love it, and I had it in my head whilst writing, so I wanted to include it.

This chapter is more of a reflection than anything else. I wanted to set up her home life and I felt like I needed a good portion to do it, do you like how I went with it? I figured that Courtney would want to be driven due to the fact that she never wants to be in such a degrading situation herself, you know? She'd want her plate to be overfilled so that she wouldn't have to be home. I have no clue what Duncan's life will be like, however.

I'm glad that you like the, uh, hot and heavy scene. I was afraid that it would come out wooden, but I think it was okay. I'm not quite sure where to go from here, but I'll let it all go and see where it takes the story. :] However, if any of you have ideas, let me know! Until then my wonderful and flattering reviewers, peace!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The characters are © Fresh TV Inc. / Teletoon, but the plot is mine.

_"Will you walk ____into __my parlour__?" __said the Spider to the Fly._

___Mary Howitt_

To say the very least, Duncan was proud of himself. The plan had been executed to perfection, his escape leaving her befuddled and confused. He let her know that he was not finished with her, yet failed to give her more than a slight hint. She could not see his cards; the game was not fun if he didn't have an ace up his sleeve.

Years later, he would look back at that moment and marvel at his resolve. He did not realize that having her so intimately pressed against him would question his sanity, but it did. Through his large hand he could feel the nervous heat seep through her epidermis, her heart thudding so hard that he felt it through the smooth material that covered her back. The fight-or-flight vibe he felt through her was enough to make him internally groan, and Duncan found that he couldn't resist temptation any longer.

Perhaps his lips lingered upon her neck longer than was necessary. Perhaps the way that she unfolded in his arms was a way for him to understand that his actions would send him to hell.

Frankly, he didn't give a damn.

Taking his index finger and his thumb, he plucked the cigarette from his lips. The smoke that had filled his lungs escaped with a sigh as he took a gander at his watch, thinking that if he left now he could get to Geoff's place of work, strategically catty-corner from her place of work. In a strange way, he had that cesspool of demonic children to thank for introducing his object of obsession to him. While it was true that he saw her quite frequently at school, the way that she smiled when she realized that no one cared for her overly aggressive nature, the happiness that only seemed to appear when she knew no one was looking, caught him captive.

At school, she was filled with a need to be an overachieving bitch that did whatever it took to come out on top, when no one was watching she was human.

The delightful and perfect image that she had at school would be torn away bit by bit, and by the time he was finished she would be a better person. Some called her a martyr for giving herself to her work, and not making time for her social life. Duncan, on the other hand, thought that it was a waste.

It was a crime for such a delectable specimen of a human being to locked in an office, unaware of the potential she had. Duncan knew she had a dark side, or he would not have taken an interest in the first place. It was the glimmer in her eye that stoked his fire. _I know what resides within the recesses of your mind, Princess, for the same thoughts pound through mine_.

Finishing his cigarette he flicked it out and started his own car's ignition, he began to pull out of the parking lot; it was time for him to set up his post at United Sportswear, where he knew Geoff would be.

* * *

Courtney hated being late. Perhaps it was because her Oma raised her to believe that if she were on time, she would be late, and if she was at least five minutes early, she was in fact on time. Of course, if (_for some, terrible reason_)she happened to be late to the affair...she should not have come at all.

One could easily imagine her horror at pulling into the nearby parking lot when she should have been checking in with her boss. As the digital reader of the car clock turned into five-o'clock, she squealed with fright. Her heart ran fast and hard in her chest, and she had to place her hand over her heart to stop the rising panic that rose to bile into her throat. The bitter taste made her close her eyes and lean her head gingerly on the headrest of the driver's seat. _One…two…three…_ Slowing her breathing down she felt a headache blooming, a trade for the panic attack that she was avoiding.

_Stop being ridiculous Courtney. Get out of this car and go to work. Do what you have to do to get the job done. Whatever you are feeling is just temporary, and no one can blame you for that._

The individuals that surrounded Courtney on the day-to-day basis expected the world on a platter, that she was Atlas, holding up the world upon her shoulders without any complaints or reservations. They were correct for the most part; she would happily take on more stress if it meant more recognition and more chances to further enhance her inner self.

Her yoga instructor was constantly chiding her for allowing so much stress into her life, _"you have to build up your inner being. If you keep running yourself ragged then you will have wrinkles by the time you are twenty-seven, and honey, looking like you are forty when you should be out on the town would be simply tragic. You need a vice. Get a man! He'd loosen you up/"_ Of course her instructor had to give her ridiculous advice.

_Loosen me up! Like I need loosening! If I were any looser than I'd be so loose that I'd never be taken seriously. I am seriously like the most relaxed person ever, anyway, so he is just insane._

Yet the advice she shunned so resiliently seemed to plague her mind at the most inopportune moments.

In a huff, she got out of the car, taking a deep breath of the air that seemed too hot to filter through her lungs, causing her to cough into the sleeve of her arm. The recent weather was a clear indication that fall was in full swing, during the day, it was hot and muggy, almost as if a mist had settled over the city; the night was a different story. At night, the humidity vanished and a bitter and brisk wind ran through the streets (_ridiculous_).

Luckily, the uncomfortable weather would soon seep away. Courtney could not wait until she could embrace the autumn weather fully, the ambiance of the month filled her with content. Perhaps it was the smell of spice, the decaying scent of changing leaves, or even the taste of pumpkin pie fresh from a bakery…the answer was unclear. Of course, each season had strong points and weak points and due to that she liked an aspect of the weather at all times of the year. However, she loathed the transition period between the four periods; too much awkward change that she could not control.

_Not that I am a control freak. That is utterly ridiculous; I simply detest the strange weather that I am subjected to on the quarter-year basis._

Shaking her head she pushed the glass door to the toy store, looking at the clock that hung high on the wall. She was ten minutes late. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath in and looked around for her boss, Tommy. Upon finding him she smiled and greeted him, her cheerful "hello!" was lost momentarily as Owen entered the very same door, boisterously stating his arrival. The apology she had planned for being late had now lodged in her throat and she forced on a smile to the blonde Crockpot of Glee that had just marched into the store.

"Owen! It is so—" Cut off while he went over to the candy machine to get his routine gumball, instead of acknowledging her, she rolled her eyes in utter irritation. He couldn't help it, and she tried to understand that. His attention was that of a gnat, and one could not be held accountable for their sweet tooth and inability to focus on any one thing at a time. "—lovely to see you." Clapping her hands lightly together, she sighed deeply.

"Tommy! You got the jumbo-bubble this time! Righteous!"

Arching her eyebrow high, Courtney decided that if she were to remain composed she would have to get away from the constant sugar rush that was Owen Stallwell. She could swear that if he kept up his eating habits, the way they were going, he would have diabetes by age twenty-four. He could only be the cute and cuddly one for long; although she did have to admit that she was jealous of the magnetic appeal that he seemed to have. In all of his blundering double entendres, all of his cravings for food at the strangest times…he was endearing in a way that she was not.

_Duncan doesn't think so._ Courtney stopped in mid-step, knitting her eyebrows together as she tried to figure out why she thought that. She had done a wonderful job of ignoring he and his unforgivable actions for a few moments, yet all of a sudden she reassured herself that she was likable. Why else would he do what he did? _Oh, it is a game._ He meant nothing to her, and she meant nothing to him. It was a fact, and she was utterly convinced.

Naturally, he would have to prove her wrong.

Suddenly she felt something on her shoulder, whipping around only to see Tommy. His brown eyes were squinted slightly as he analyzed her face, Courtney felt instantly ill at ease. "Is there something wrong, Tommy?"

"I was wondering the same about you, don't think that I didn't notice that you were late."

This was the end, she was expecting to hear the dreaded words any moment. _You're fired._ "I am _so_ sorry! I was in the library and I lost track of time. It will never happen again."

When watched as a charming smile made its way over his face, the slightly lopsided nature of it made her wonder what he was thinking. He slipped his arm around her shoulders like he had a few times before, only this time she felt more closed in than was normal."I bet you won't. You are much more responsible than that." He paused, looking over his shoulder to see Owen go behind the register, tending to the customer that had walked up. "Is everything alright, though? You seem to be preoccupied today."

At the prying, Courtney fidgeted in his armed lock. "I am fine, I will be at least. School has been keeping me very busy, and I am just trying to adjust to my new schedule." The excuse was weak and she knew it as it left her lips, but it seemed to ward him off. His jaw clenched as she absently noticed his arm unraveling from her shoulders.

"Great." The lopsided grin had faded, and despite the cheerful note of the word, it didn't meet the rest of features. "You know Courtney, if you need to talk to anyone, I am here for you."

"I know. Thank you, Tommy. Well…I better get to work." Courtney turned around and decided to take five in the stock room, the situation was too weird.

Little did she know who had seen the small, and awkward, altercation. He did not see it as awkward, however; Duncan saw the interaction between Courtney and her manager as intimate.

And he was livid.

From his perch in the deli Geoff worked at, he saw the whole thing. The coiffed and polished lad that wrapped his arm around Courtney was no stranger to Duncan, the cad had graduated a year before them and had a more detailed little black book than even he. Just by touching Courtney, Duncan had an innate fear that she had gotten a venereal disease.

How dare he touch what he wanted so deeply, and for she to be so willing…stung. He never took to blows to his ego lightly, this was no different. Everything within him told him not to be jealous, that the plan he had in store for her was something she was best to be unprepared for, even if he was now vying for her attention against someone else that she was (_apparently_) more drawn to.

However, that was fine. He always appreciated a challenge, and she was one worth fighting for.

Hoping off of the stool, Duncan yelled back to Geoff that he was leaving and that he'd see him tomorrow. Getting the acknowledging "yeah dude, sure" was dismissal enough and soon Duncan was heading back to his truck. Swinging the key ring around his fingers, his other hand rubbed his chin. The slight stubble was something that he would take care of tonight, but not before figuring out his next course of action.

* * *

Author's Note: I am very sorry for the delay, those of you that were waiting. I am getting ready to start at college and my life has been very hectic. Also, I have been battling my muse over this story. It wants me to write a completely different story, but I feel like I should still do this one. I don't think I could handle two at once, but if it comes to that I will try very hard to balance.

As for you all wanting more lust-ridden scenes…well, you should learn to wait (perverts!). This story does have a _plot_ (sort of) and Duncan has a lot more in store for Courtney before it gets as hot as you all want it. Still open for possible ideas, as usual, as well as directions on where to go. Thank you all for being patient, and not hitting me with rocks. OH AND FYI: I am very sorry that this is a bit uninspired.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The characters are © Fresh TV Inc. / Teletoon, but the plot is mine.

_But I, being poor, have only my dreams;  
I have spread my dreams under your feet,  
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams_

W.B. Yeates

Despite the rapid fire thoughts going through Courtney's head that evening, after she had closed up the toy store, she slept like a rock. A dead rock at that. The dreamless sleep held her captive just as she walked into her bedroom and was not quick to release its hold that morning. The granola bar she grabbed from the cupboard, the shower she took, the clothing she picked out, all seemed as if it were a dream; rather, part of the dream that she had left when she pulled herself from the ridiculously comfortable comforter.

She brushed her hair with her fingers, feeling the silken strands slide through her fingers as her other hand fed her the dried oats and honey. The caramel colored eyes that were lined in a dark fan of lashes made herself analyze her image within the mirror. Although she had a deep sleep, it was apparently not as restoring as she had initially thought. Under her slightly tanned skin lay darker skin that let her know that she was haggard, she was still tired. Chomping on the noisy breakfast, she pat the circles under her eye. Before she left for an early session in the library, she would have to put on her war paint.

Or, as most called it, make-up.

Shoving the rest of the bar into her mouth without an ounce of grace, she picked up her facial concealer and began making sure that if it looked like she had one hell of a night, no one would be able to tell. It did not feel as if she were applying it correctly, though, and it took her much longer than she was used to in order to finish the extra coverage. Her mind kept travelling back to what people would think about her when she went back into the high school building and her face was caked in cosmetic powder.

Then again, most people would think nothing of it, as Courtney looked exactly the same as she always did. So why was she suddenly self-conscious? It was beyond her. She knew that spending time amongst her early risers in the Library would be able to sort her out, it would have to. Finding a nice quiet corner would be a nice way for her to clear her head, it always was.

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, Duncan was a man that loved getting riled up. He played the cool and collected part well, but he loved nothing more than to be denied from what he wanted. Case in point: Courtney Callahan.

On the off chance that he would be able to avoid the various consorts that he shared a bed with from time to time, Duncan hid in the piles of books that his school had. He never would have guessed in his freshmen year that the library of the school would be the focal point of the establishment, and over the years he had learned just why it was that. The library was inordinately large, spanning two floors with abundant amounts of literature that would have anyone running to get lost within its confines.

He had planned on that. He needed to clear his head and get back into the game. To say the least the development of Courtney showing interest in another was one that he had to step back and analyze. _Tommy_. The blonde-haired man that had arms of steel due to the years he had spent as the pitcher of the school's local baseball team. In the year that he had over he and Courtney, he had, in Duncan's opinion, not amounted to much. He was living at home, which would not have been a poor decision if he was doing something with his time other than working the night shift at a toy store.

But school was not on his agenda, apparently. The man (_boy_) was never known to work hard and was probably living his life as mommy's little boy, and living off of daddy's large paycheck. He was now targeting a young and impressionable girl who was still in high school. People like him made Duncan sick to his stomach.

_And I am no better._ Yet, oh, he was. The difference was that by the end Courtney would know exactly what he was doing, and she would enjoy it. He would introduce her to the world of sin, and she would like it.

Now was the time to think, however, as he did not know when he would be able to enact the next stage of the plan. He only had one class with her on "B days," and that was history. On "A days" he had gym. Seeing that it was an A day, he had the opportunity to view her in the designated garb, which would have been more appealing if the t-shirt did not have her draped in far too much fabric, and if the shorts were not down to her knees in a tacky mesh fabric. That was a sin within itself, not being able to see her lean body in a more practical fashion.

It was too open for this stage, he wouldn't be able to _do_ anything without it raising suspicion. She would also be able to get away from him with ease if she felt attacked or uncomfortable. Henceforth, he needed a way to sneak up on her, light her fire, and leave her burning. It was an action that needed to happen within the next forty-eight hours or the effect would be lost. She would find a way to avoid him and then it would all be over.

With a grunt of frustration, he brought both of his hands to skim the sides of his head, avoiding the Mohawk in the center by weaving through the black hair along the sides. _Shit, I can use some advil._ He stared at his hands after bringing them down, thinking that he could somehow devise a plan through the appendages, or better yet it would heal his headache. It was moments like this that he regretted ever wanting the petite, staunchly virginized, Courtney.

A sudden dropping of a book made him pop his head upward to see who had dared disturb him and his little table. What, no, who he saw staring straight back at him was quite a radiant sight. Dear Courtney in question, mouth agape, and brown eyes wide; she looked as if she had seen a ghost, and he noticed that her hands were still in the position that she had them before she dropped the book in shock. He appreciated the silhouette she cast against the rows of books behind her and could not help but smile, Christmas had come early.

"Well hello, Princess."

On the other hand, Courtney could have sworn that she could hear the sound of an organ proclaiming her misfortune. She should have just _walked away_. It wasn't fair to judge her however, as she was momentarily captivated by the way he looked in the library, a stark contrast from the straight lines of the bindings was this mowawked deviant. The way the artificial light caught his green hair was most interesting, and the way that he was sitting, like he was actually_ thinking_ about something, was entirely enthralling in a different way. Of course her sanity got a hold of her and she realized _who_ it was; that was when the book fell from her (_not shaking_) hands.

"Why are you stalking me, you perverted freak?"

He laughed, she felt something thump against her chest as if she had just delivered an A-Grade speech in her most difficult class.

"I was here, first. It was you who graced me with your presense." He moved to get up from the seat (_he always looks so awkward sitting down_) and she instantly took a step back, "how sweet of you to join me, though. I was bored and you always seem to provide entertainment."

Duncan moved like a lion, and Courtney now noticed how measured his steps were and how even the backward tilt of his posture was intentional. It was predatory, and she was thinking that she was definitely his next target. "Don't be ridiculous. I have no intention of staying here, with you, where you can molest me again."

He seemed amused, and she couldn't help but feel her spine get an electrical shiver as she backed up. Rather, backed down. She was giving up and letting him get to her. She could run, she would run. Wait, how did he get so close?

She didn't have to open her eyes (_they were closed? When did I do that?_) to know that Duncan was in front of her, nor could she deny the shelf of books at her back. Where she thought that she would be able to find quiet solace within the booked alcove, she now felt as if she walked into a spider's web. Breathing in, she smelled his scent, and noticed how it was much warmer than he thought it would be. Cinnamon, the smell of an autumn wind, and something else that she could identify as wholly 'male.'

"Then run, Courtney. Go ahead." His long arm motioned to the left of her, signaling her exit. He half laughed as he spoke, "I'm not stopping you."

Courtney felt her jaw clench, it was a challenge. Leave if you are scared. In her eyes it was an ultimatum, go now and live with yourself, or confront me. Her heart beat faster as she looked at him through narrowed eyes, "what do you want from me, Ogre? I've done nothing to you to make you do…this."

The extended arm that lead to her freedom closed back to his side, and an eyebrow arched high into his forehead, his green eyes becoming steely. "Come now, you are a smart girl. I'm sure you've figured it out." He took a small step closer, using his arms as a cage around her as he balanced his lean form between the strong appendages.

"No. No I haven't. The closest thing that I have come to is that this is some sick game to you, in order to make me lose focus on my studies and more important things. You are a lustful pig who would not know a skank from an ex-girlfriend." The fire in her eyes made him smile, and he leaned in closer.

He seemed to take what she said into consideration, but that didn't stop him. The end result was him a hairs breath away from her face, and an impish grin that made her wary. "You know, Dollface, I think of you eighty-nine percent of the time, and none of the fantasies are clean. I will let you build up a defense, only for you to wish for me to tear it down. I will let you know what you have been missing, and you will love every second of the torture I put you through." Courtney's heart must have stopped, because this was not happening. Whatever he was doing to her was not right, and why did it feel like part of her was reveling in the way he was talking to her?

"That is utterly _ridiculous_. It is not as if I would give a second thought to you. And you shouldn't do that to me." She couldn't think as she could see the striations of green within his eye, making a captivating combination of hues that she felt as if she could get lost in. It made her think of a forest, but in this case she could not see the forest through the trees.

He smiled, and her heart jump. He could not help it, the creeping blush upon her cheeks, the way her eyes seemed to fill with confusion, anger, and another intoxicating emotion, and the way her lips parted when she spoke. "If that were the case, _Princess_, you would have left when you had the chance," moving one hand behind her head, he cradled it while weaving his long fingers through the silken brunette strands. "Some part of you is undeniably curious, isn't it?"

Courtney hated the way Duncan was looking at her, like he could see straight through her, and she hated it. She spoke without conviction as she attempted to rationalize what he was doing, and what they were up to. "No. This is against school policy, if the Principal were to walk in at this moment I would never be accepted to a prestigious university…and will you stop touching me? I don't want your disgusting germs all over me."

Duncan was now fed up, and the only way that he could think of silencing this woman was to do one thing. He swiftly closed the gap in between their lips, the hand cradling her head pressing her into him. He used his superior height to tilt her head back and deepen the kiss, her shocked state made it easy access for him and he could only internally cry with glee. And how she tried to fight him back with her tongue, oh what a delight. It was tentative, it was slow, but he would teach her to fight for the leading role of this intimate exchange.

Courtney's body, first rigid, became more pliable as she put her arms up to his chest (_with every intention of pushing the beast away from me!_), but inadvertently lost her inner fight and closed her eyes as her stomach filled with those butterflies that he inspired before. If this was what lust felt like, it really wasn't too bad. Maybe this was why marriages failed and there were rotten eggs in the world, the bubbling feeling that she couldn't describe was something utterly_...amazing._

Then it was over. Duncan pulled away and she was confused. She didn't understand what was happening and why he stopped, or why she didn't stop him, why she enjoyed (_no I hated it!_) the kiss, why the make-out session in the library seemed like a good idea….but he was gone. He was gone before she could yell at him, or maybe she had kept her eyes closed for too long.

"Miss Callahan, what are you up to at this hour?" The voice was enough to throw cold water over her entire body, and she turned around to see one of the school security guards, looking bewildered as to why the future valedictorian was standing in a corner of the library, half dazed and lipgloss askew. _One more second with Duncan and…_"Nothing happened! I mean, I'm fine. Really. I'll….I'll just be going." Looking around her she found the book she had dropped when she had walked into the section and bent to pick it up. "I have a test to go to! So I will talk to you later, Sir. Thank you, for uh, staying on patrol and keeping our library free of delinquints!"

All but running out of the library, Courtney went to her first class and allowed herself to internally collapse. Why, oh why, was this happening to her?

* * *

Duncan had no intention of leaving Courtney so early, but he had heard footsteps creeping on the wooden steps. Knowing that he had to get out of there or face as much of a social suicide as Princess, he had to get out and quick; the face she had when he left was one that he almost felt remorse for. Then again, this worked to his utmost advantage.

* * *

Author's Note: I think I'll personalize reactions to people. That seems nice, right? I have seen people do it before and it seems lovely, so I'll do it for the reviews that make me really happy.

**destinys angel**, I will take what you are saying into consideration, and believe me—Courtney will have her own revenge. The thing is that she doesn't exactly know what he is doing to her, physically, and she has already figured out that it is a game. Or so she thinks. Duncan has a lot more in store for her than she ever thought. She is quite brilliant, but he will act as a bit of a…well, I can't give that away. **Cartoonfire**, Thank you! I fully agree, the thing is that they are not going to have such interactions every chapter. It would detract from what he is doing to _her._ **Temari's Angle**, thanks. I know college is a big step, I am excited! **Poofpowerlol18**, awe, you are such a loyal reviewer. **Nightshade218**, oh gosh, your review is so sweet! Thank you so much! It is feedback like this that makes me want to continue writing! Of course, thank you all for reviewing you sweet and awesome things.

Seduction in the library, lol I know. Ridiculous and cliché, but it is her second home! Duncan thought that he was being nice by attacking her on her home court, and I can only agree. It was time for her to be more confrontational, anyway.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The characters are © Fresh TV Inc. / Teletoon, but the plot is mine.

_"Looking at cleavage is like looking at the sun. You can't stare at it long,_

_it's too risky. You get a sense of it then you look away."_

Jerry Seinfield

He was behind her, head crooked and leaving warm and moist kisses along the column that extended between her cranium and bones of the rest of her body. The large plane of his hand was against her abdomen, and all she could think about was how she got there. Of course, that was eradicated as she felt him start to whisper something in her ear as he slipped his hand beneath the wool of the warm sweater. Her head rolled back onto his lowered shoulder and she crinkled her eyebrows together, trying to hear what he said.

"Hmmm?" When her contemplative murmurs became so delicate and lovely, she did not know. It did fit nicely into the situation, though, and that could not be denied as he pressed against her closer. A rumbling against her back indicated that he had said something again, but it was muffled.

Courtney was now slightly alarmed; was she going deaf? "What is it?"

Her eyes opened (_when did I close them?_) and scooted to the side of her sockets in order to read his lips, or at least see him. Catching wind of the dark shock of hair, albeit short, against the pale of the rest of his features worked as a reassuring factor. But now he was chuckling as his hands kneaded gently into the skin that surrounded her hips, "not today, Princess."

The warmth she was experiencing was gone, he was gone. _Wait…_ Gone? People just could not vanish.

But he was gone.

And there was silence.

Until she heard a siren, a horrific wail that had her grabbing her head and—Courtney woke up.

Shooting up from her bed, she nearly fell on her face while getting out of bed, her legs not quite able to support her frame. Horror filled her entire being; not that she had woken up, but what had _worked_ her up. Courtney had just experienced something utterly juvenile. A _dirty_ dream. A _very_ dirty dream. Not just that! If it were on the latest Hollywood heart throb, or even the hot scholar in her school that seemed to be able to do _everything_ (_except notice me_), it would be par for the course! The subject matter was horrifically improper and downright _gross_.

She remembered when they had last crossed paths in the library, it was by all accounts a normal day after that. She had gone to lunch and socialized, ignored the fact that everywhere she went she had to brush off the feeling that people were looking at her and thinking about what she was doing with the Ogre. A ridiculous notion, as no one knew but her. And _him_. He was probably airing their dirty laundry everywhere. She couldn't trust him and his mowhawk, or piercings, or dark clothing, or inappropriate sense of humor, or yummy smell, or the way his eyes could see straight through her. It was a very terrifying situation that she just didn't know how to deal with.

Besides. It had been two weeks.

Two days of encounters.

Two weeks of _nothing_.

No looks. No touches (_not that I care!_). No acknowledge of existence. She had even given a ten minute schpeel on Fraud and sex one lunch and she hadn't heard a jeer or snide comment. No chastises on her staunch virginity. No anything.

Why was it that she should have been cheering up and down at his final act of giving up, she was feeling like she was more unappealing than ever? She was not about to pull a Sandy Olsson and become a skank for his attention, as nothing of that sort was appealing in the least. She was not going to stoop to the level of _bondage_ to get the attention of a sexual deviant. Sandy had been sexually frustrated, and she was not. Sandy had been on a date with the object of her lust, and Courtney just had sexual molestation in the hall and library of her supposed safe haven of school.

She must have killed a cat in her past life, or something, to deserve such a terrible fate.

It was no matter, she had Yoga that afternoon after school and her instructor could always help her take her mind off of the most tiresome of things. He would simply have a field-day with this mess that she considered her daily routine. Go to bed denying that Duncan's lack of interest was effecting her, sleep and possibly dream about him or something that inadvertently refers to her lonely life, wake up and go to school hoping that she could fight off the cold shoulder feeling, and then go home and do homework….only to start the process over yet again shortly thereafter.

Courtney had become exhausted, not knowing what had gotten into her. She had skipped the whole "lustful" years of puberty, perhaps by avoiding it for so long it was like hormonal backup. Now she was acting like a female animal in heat, and the one she wanted was no longer desiring her. A frustrated moan erupted from her throat as she fell back onto the bed, the long sleepwear pants encasing her legs and keeping her warm as she stared at the ceiling. Perhaps the monotonous life she had before these chance encounters was more appealing, her faux sturdy psyche was not happy with her sudden influx of inner conflict.

But alas, as she had heard time and time again, the show must go on. And as she went throughout the day, she would have to remind herself of that time and time again.

* * *

Duncan would be late to school. It was noon, and he had not moved.

It was not that he would be intentionally late (_liar_), it was just that in his current position it would be quite awkward to make a break for the door. In fact, as he thought about his possible modes of escapism, he felt the form beside him shift and an arm sling around his broad chest; the dramatic sigh from the sleeping form made him shift uncomfortably. It was not that he regretted last night, hell he would do it again (_and again, and again_) if he could, but it was with whom that he had engaged in intercourse with that had him wanting to squirm away and drown his acts in an acid bath.

He caught the blonde, flaxen curls of the young woman from the corner of his eyes and decided it would be in his best interest to close his eyes and hope that a divine spirit would rid him of his ex. Physically she was appealing, yes, but mentally she was as dim as a turkey that upturned it's head during the rainy season. As wise as a kumquat (_if she knew what that was_) she would sooner believe that a street vender was actually selling her a designer purse than believing that he was a fraud. Overly giving and caring, he had become an annoyance that he simply couldn't deny.

It was those doe eyes that got him.

Actually, it wasn't anything. Duncan knew that she was purely sex to him, and an object that had been used by many before him and would be used by many a person after he had fully ended the relationship.

Yet like the conventional hormonal male he would never turn her away. The night prior he had stumbled onto his front porch, drunk, and asking if he could satisfy her. Who, in their right mind, would turn that away? No one. Lies if they claimed they would.

However, the more that Duncan thought about the situation the more he felt like the evil villain with a handlebar mustache that plotted against innocent virgins (_or not_). Capturing the fair Damsel in distress and demanding sexual gratification or else, only caring about his own needs and not their own. The evil village defiling virginal women that should have been pure. Naturally, the thought of tempting flesh and virginity brought his mind back to his latest conquest, of sorts.

Courtney.

By the Gods his self control needed to be awarded with a medal. For two weeks he ignored her, knowing that she would wonder why he was doing it and what was wrong with her. Ah, the beauty of having such an extensive little black book was that after a while you could tap into every stereotype that women fell into. He felt her on more than one occasion, her eyes rather, boring into the back of his skull, expecting him to make a move. When he didn't, she recoiled back in confusion and would eventually bubble up and ask for his attention.

It worked before, and it would work with her. She was no different from others.

After he bit the fruit of Eden he would be free from the confining thoughts of her that had plagued him, after a while Duncan had convinced himself as much. If the thoughts did not cease, he was unaware of how he would continue to function; when he had told her that he thought of her constantly (_eight-nine percent_), he was telling the truth.

The different ways to defile her often filtered through his mind without reservation, and if he coult only enact a few of those fantasies he would be able to die a happy man.

"Duncaaaaan, are you awake?" _Shit._

He turned his head in a silent answer, and the girl smiled, the impish grin belaying the fact that she looked like a cherub. "Good! After we _wake up_ can you take me to the mall? I told my boyfriend I'd meet him there, and after last night I'd say you _owe_ me one."

She laughed, and the sound would have been lovely if it weren't for the bitter undertone of corruption that made him suddenly want to go to church like a good little boy. How many Hail Mary's would he be up to now, if he cared? As she rolled off of the bed and began looking for her clothing amidst the room, he concluded that the amount would be enough deterrent for him to never find out. Her nude form was aglow from youth and satiation, and as she stretched upward he moved his head so he was blinking at his ceiling.

"Sure. What entrance?"

"The one by the….uh, not the movie theatre, the one next to it. You know, with the department store that I got those cute pumps from."

Duncan closed his eyes and sighed, "can you be more specific? You have more shoes than anyone needs."

She paused in her pursuit of clothing and sighed, the depression of the bed then informed him that she had entered back into his personal bubble. Her long hair dangling over his chest and tickling the skin confirmed this. "Oh honey," she started, "don't be like this! I meant the pink ones! That I wore with that super cute vest with the little studs on it."

When he didn't answer, or open his eyes, she made an annoyed grunt and got off the bed and, he assumed, resumed her perusal of her skirt. Making an "ah-HA!" when she had found her skirt, she slipped it over her hips and buttoned the front. "If Daddy calls, be sure to tell him that we were studying. He likes you, you know, you were always nice to his little princess…" Slipping her blouse on, she smiled proudly at herself, "me. That is, me."

"Fine."

"Oh, and of course, Kevin can't know about this. He would be absolutely furious!"

_Kevin, her boyfriend._ They had been friends, Duncan and Kevin, before he had slept with the blonde whore who was dressing in his room while they were going out. The thought of sharing her, inadvertently and behind his back, made him wish for a shower all the more.

"Whatever."

Finally moving, the slender lad stood and moved to find a pair of boxers and slipped them on as soon as they were spotted. Walking to the drawers in the side of the room he pulled out a pair of pants and a shirt blindly, putting them on without looking at the blonde girl who was now adjusting her makeup in the mirror. "Jessica, are you ready? I told Karen that I would pick my cousin up from the airport this afternoon. It is his first flight alone and I don't want to be late."

Karen, Duncan's mother, was a caring woman who worked hard to provide all that her son needed. His cousin, in all reality, would not be in until much later in the day, but Duncan just wanted away from the harlot that reminded him that he was a disgusting human being. _Well, Duncan, you are._ Shrugging, he turned and looked at her as she grinned and nodded. "We should go, anyway. Kevin must be worried sick…and actually don't drop me off at the entrance, just drop me off in the middle of a parking lot…I can find my way. He is just such a lovely guy, I don't want to hurt his feelings."

It didn't matter to Duncan, and as he slipped on sock and shoes, he grabbed his car keys. "Let's go, then."

It appeared that school would be simply out of the question, _oh darn_.

* * *

Life wasn't fair! Courtney didn't understand, he wasn't even at school that day. He must have been sick.

Ill.

Maybe dying!

That would have explained why he hadn't been looking at her like the immoral man that she knew he was. He was sick and was staying home to get better, and it didn't have anything to do with her.

_He probably got a Sexually Transmitted Disease from sleeping with a tramp and is nursing himself back to health._

Obviously getting an STD would be enough to chafe anyone's willy, and it was cause enough to convince herself that she was perfectly appealing. To her, Duncan was a human being that was the cause of all of her troubles and if she could just get him off of her mind her life would return to normal.

Then again, if she found out that he had a humane side, she would be in serious, _serious_, trouble.

Little did she know that he would be able to drop a bomb at her that would sink herself further into a web of unwitting desire.

* * *

Author's Note: No personal love this time around. I barely have time to write this up for you, but since I am so nice, I thought that I would do so. Haha, kidding, I swear I am not that conceited. All the same, I did think that I should at least give you guys something….is it a good/fantastic chapter? I think not, but it will have to do until I have time set aside precisely for this and for you guys. I hope you can forgive me! It is pretty lame, but yeah, I just wanted something to make you all not hate me.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The characters are © Fresh TV Inc. / Teletoon, but the plot is mine.

"_Trickery and treachery are the practices of fools _

_that have not the wits enough to be honest." _

Benjamin Franklin

Fucking disgusting. Duncan was in a fowl, awful, God be damned above all, mood. He had just dropped off Jessica, and now that she had left the vicinity, he could fully wallow in the filth that she had left with him left the night before. The sheen of sweat from the sex that morning, and the night before, had since dried and he knew that it was sticky against his flesh. The small pores upon his pale skin failed to show marring from the prosthetic nails of the bimbo he slept with whenever they both needed to get their rocks off, which was a good thing. He eyed his blue eyes in the mirror, the bags under his eyes doing absolutely nothing for the overall image. He had to face it:

He looked like shit.

The digital clock in his car reminded him that he had to pick up his cousin in a few hours, yet considering he had to come during rush hour (_fucking cars_) he had to leave at least an hour earlier. Duncan had to get home, to bathe, to get the feeling of the woman off of him. The more that he sat in the silence of his truck the more he realized how vile sleeping with his ex-friend's girlfriend, who was _his_ ex, ground into his mind and made bile appear in the back of his throat.

Turning on the ignition he saw no other way around it, he had to get back. He did not have a lot of traffic, considering school had yet to be released, and many people were at work; all for the better. As soon as he entered his home he stripped off his clothing on the way to the shower, avoiding contacting his own skin for the sticky feeling that would only erupt his vomit that he had been holding down so nicely.

Jessica was a champ, it was undeniable that she gave great head and could screw like a wildcat, but in hindsight he could only compare the way her skin felt in comparison to _her_. How the bottled-blonde nature of her hair was so fake in comparison to the mahogany locks of _her._ The way the sway of her hips was so forced when _hers_ was natural, confident…Of course, how Jessica had the body of a high paid stripper that knew how to dance in the laps like the finest harem whores (_which is a talent that can't be overlooked_), but _she_ had a naturally slim nature that hinted that she practiced yoga, yet it looked as if she had been sheltered from the passionate; then of course, there was always the way _she_ responded to _him_.

There were some things that could simply not be replicated, despite the sexual skill level that the individual had. The sheer naïveté of _her_ was so alluring, he couldn't help but want to corner her and defile her in the worst way possible. His breath hitched as he closed his eyes to remember the way her plush lips felt under his lips…

When Duncan turned on the shower, he was sure to keep it on cold until his sexual excitement died down.

* * *

"Courtney! Court, wait up for me!" Caramel eyes zoned back into reality as Courtney slowed her steps to look over her shoulder to eye who it was that was calling her. It took her a moment to zero into where the voice was coming from, only to see Bridgette waving her hand for a signal. Courtney could only smile as the blonde approached, her mood instantly lit up at seeing her good friend.

Halting her movement completely, she grinned. "Hey, Court what has gotten into you? You've been acting so strange, girl."

The academic-savvy girl could only taper down her awkward smile to the point where it looked as if she had a nervous twitch. "Don't be silly, Bridgette, my mind has just been really out there lately. I mean, with finals coming up and winter break straight after that, and don't even get me started with buying presents, I haven't even been able to go to yoga! Then of course there is the fact that I—"

Bridgette stared at the brunette as if she had lost her mind on the walk outside of the classroom. "Woah, woah woah woah." Putting up her hands to halt the tirade, she shook her head, "I was just wondering if you wanted to go to the Butte tonight with the gang. I know that it is '_past your bedtime,'_"the blonde took a second to clear her throat and emulate Courtney to the best of her ability, earning an amusing look from her cohort, "but you should go! They are going to play Psycho on a projector, I swear it won't be like the last one. Besides, I heard that Tommy was going." Elbowing her in a suggestive fashion, it was now time for Courtney to return the look that said 'you are clearly insane.'

Sighing, the surfer girl could only roll her eyes. "Just think about it, okay? You don't have to drink or anything, just chill with us, honey. We miss you hanging with us, it has been so long since you've done that."

"You sound like a mother."

"Well someone has to." The genuine smile that filled the attractive blonde's features made Courtney's heart get warmer. However, the only thing she could say was, "I'll think about it. I have an early shift at work tonight, so I have to get going."

The obvious disappointment that Bridgette exerted after Courtney said that made her frown, it was as if the athletic girl's entire spirit had crushed as her shoulders slumped. Courtney had to give her credit, she sure as hell knew how to guilt-trip like the best of them. The sadness was dispersed as quickly as it appeared and a smile appeared in its place, "alright, I'll let you go then. I hope I see you tonight!" her frame turned and retreated from Miss Callahan, and the only thing she could think of was how the discontent hurt her feelings. She really didn't deserve such wonderful people as friends, and then she took advantage of them so often…

Wouldn't that classify her as a rotten demon spawn? At this rate, she could only think so.

* * *

Traffic had been hell, but after some self-love (_and relief_) and a long, hot shower, little could sway Duncan from his mood. He stood just inside of the airport, waiting for the attendant from South Seas Airlines to bring his cousin, and they were already late. Putting his hands in his jeans, he looked up at the beams above him and sighed, closing his eyes and tapping his foot on the ground. He listened to the noise around him, the honking outside for the traffic to grab a spot, a man complimenting the beauty of a woman that had just arrived, a baby crying due to the loud noise of everyone else.

Then he heard it. "Cousin Duncan! Cousin Duncan!" The second was drawn out in excitement, and as he flung his head back to normal, he saw the child running toward him with arms outstretched. When he made contact with the tall figure, the kid wrapped his arms around his legs and hugged tightly. "Cousin Duncan!" Duncan grinned as he looked down at the child with a large mop of yellow hair on his head, looking up he saw a South Seas Airline attendant walking toward him with a large suitcase, and a smile. She was cute, older, and she eyed the child with a motherly gaze. "What a charming little boy, he would not stop talking about you the entire ride here. He even drew a picture for you." At that time Duncan noticed the sheet of paper in her hand, with brightly done scribbles that stood out against the off-white of the background.

Handing it to him, he took it in his hand and folded it into a small rectangle, taking out his wallet to put the artwork in. "Thank you, Susan," smiling at her, he noted the pin on her lapel. "Scotty is a bit of a handful." Bringing a hand down to the kid's hair, he ruffled it with his long fingers. "Was he well behaved?"

The woman named Susan smiled happily, "Oh yes! He was simply an angel! He gave us no problems at all, will you have any issues carrying the luggage outside?" The small bag that she set beside her ankles was moved toward Duncan's feet, and he shook his head. "I'll be fine, thank you Susan. I'm going to take the rascal out for a treat, since he was such a saint." Susan seemed won, and she waved goodbye to the endearing blonde boy. "I'll see you in a week, Scotty!" With that, she retreated back to the airline stand.

Scotty was now tugging on his shirt and grinning, "pick me up, lazy." It was at that point that the delinquent-looking boy threw his head back and laughed, tugging up the lightweight individual. "I was wondering who this _saint_ was that she was talking about, glad to see that you are still a little brat." Scotty stuck his tongue out and shook his head wildly, his hair flipping around his slightly chubby cheeks in the process. "Meany!" Proud of his insult, he burst into laughter and put his head on his cousin's shoulder. Duncan bent down to pick up the bag that came with Scotty, the young child easily being held in an iron grip. "Hey, that isn't very nice. If you continue that way I won't take you to the toy store, on the way home."

"The _toy store_?" Scotty pushed back on Duncan's chest to look at the man, a look of awe on his face. "No! No! We have to go! Please? Pretty please?" Drawing out _please_ in the most annoying fashion, he convinced Duncan to do it with an overly-dramatic sigh. "Fine, fine. I'll take you to the toy store and you can pick out _one_ thing, okay?"

The ecstatic cries from Duncan's cousin was ringing in his ear, but all he could do was grin. He needed his fix, and it was about damn time that he got it. So he used his cousin as a rouse, but really, it was a win-win situation.

* * *

Christmas time was _hell_, and Courtney could only keep up with the masses of children for so long before retreating into the back room for a breather. Restocking was always a pain, and where on earth had all of the children come from? There had to be a conspiracy that made it so that the vast majority of people decided to procreate years before, _just_ to make it an awful holiday season.

As she opened the door to the back room, she jumped slightly as she saw Tommy sitting down at the table, his feet kicked up as he watched her with a grin. "Oh, Courtney. Taking your break?" Nodding, she smiled awkwardly and made her way to the mini fridge that was undoubtedly stocked with ice cold bottled water. Cracking open the plastic seal with a hard twist, she took a sip and thought of something to say to her Manager. Walking back over to the counter opposite of him (_and the closest to the door, Courtney? What has gotten into you?_) she smiled, and saw it mirrored back on his lips. "It is really insane out there, you know? It feels good to relax, if only for a moment."

Tommy moved to stand, kicking out his chair, and Courtney tensed up inadvertently. "Is Owen out there, alone? What an amazing employee." He took a step forward and the girl took a rather large, and unladylike, gulp of the water before closing the lid overtop again. "Kids love him, I should go out and help him." Turning around, she headed toward the door, hearing Tommy follow her lead. "Courtney, will I be seeing you tonight at the Butte? A lot of alumni are going there as well as current students, I was hoping you'd go." Turning her head she noted the suave grin that she knew should have twisted her insides and made her gush with excitement, yet that effect did not happen. Instead, she shrugged and replied calmly "I don't know. Maybe. I'm going to go help Owen now."

With that she opened the door just enough to get her small body through it, and shut it quickly behind her. Looking down at the water bottle she sighed, thinking she was safe, only to look up and see _him._

Duncan the Ogre Delinquent came into the store and her heart stopped. He had a young boy's hand in his, simply her mind raced. Her uninteresting eyes zoomed to the little boy; his hair was shockingly blonde—platinum. The boy looked at the store in wild delight, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief that she had only seen mirrored in the punk that he stood beside. The blonde tugged the tall man to his mouth level, about waist down, and whatever he whispered caused Duncan to laugh loudly. Over the ruckus of the store, she heard the deep baritone and Courtney bit her lip inadvertently. She had never seen him look as attractive as he did then, in those second when he didn't know she was watching him in this private moment with the child.

Then, he looked up and caught her analyzing eyes. Duncan was caught off-guard, a shocked look going over his features momentarily before it was replaced with the same cool confidence that he kept in check at all times. He shoved the child gently and then the kid was off into the throws of children that were crowding around the giant teddy bear known as Owen. When she took her eyes back off of the kid and raised them up, Duncan was walking toward her casually. She should have run away (_back into the room with Tommy? Nevermind._), or at least ward him off with a glare, but neither idea really appealed. Instead?She felt…excited.

It had been so long since he had really given her any attention, and now he was coming toward her like he had in their earlier encounters. It made her fidget, and the rational part of her mind told her that she was acting like a horny schoolgirl. _Not completely untrue, Courtney._

As he gained ground, she gripped her water tighter, moving away from the door slightly and migrating away to the books. He followed, simply shifting his movement to mimic her own. Duncan held back advancing like a predator, instead he was casual. He had been pleasantly surprised to find her examining him with her beautiful eyes, taking in his form as if she had just seen an oasis. It was going just as he wanted it, later he would have to pat himself on his back.

And she was expecting something suggestive, wasn't she? He could read it in Courtney's eyes, she wanted to hear something to make her heart pound. Where would the fun in that be?

"Courtney, do you know where the latest Transformer toys are? I want to get one for Scotty."

_Wait, what?_ Duncan was completely…_normal_? There was not a hint of sexuality, just a tone of a customer that wanted to buy something for a family member. It took her a second for her to register, and it seemed too long, because he cleared his throat and smirked. "He loves the movie, he can't stop talking about robots." Shaking her head, she pasted on a smile and got her head back into the game. She didn't know what he was playing, but she'd try to compete—who was Courtney if she couldn't compose herself within a moment's notice?

"Of course. It is, uh…" Her head whipped around to view the shelves of the store, until she turned around and saw that the entire selection was behind her. "Oh, they are right here Duncan. What kind would he like?"

Getting closer to her, he placed his chin on her shoulder. "Preferably under twenty dollars, but not cheap in quality. I would buy him a more expensive gift but I am pretty cash poor." The proximity of his skin to hers was something that made her heart beat so fast that she was sure he would be able to feel it through the thick-collared shirt her uniform required. "This model I've heard a lot of complaints about, so you should avoid that manufacturer. This one on the other hand," her small hand moved to a dark blue box that had an intimidating robot in it through the clear plastic, "I have heard nothing but absolutely wonderful things about. I would definitely get that one, if I were to purchase a toy."

Breathing labored, she took special time to make sure that her voice was steady. He felt a slight tremor through her, and smirked, grabbing the box without moving from his perched position. "Thank you." Slipping his other arm around her waist, he turned his head to place a tender kiss at her neck, feeling her pulse through the tendons. "Go to the Butte tonight, Princess. I _assure_ you that you would have a good time." It was whispered lowly into her ear, and her insides clenched as she bit her lip.

"Why? So that you could take advantage of me again? Fat chance, Ogre." The insult fell limply from her lips, and the effect that he had on her became blatantly obvious. He only laughed and pulled away, "there would be no forcing required, besides, I'm a fan of Hitchcock. Wouldn't you like to know me when you aren't shoved between me and a wall?" Laughing at what he said, he took a step back and flagged a third employee to work the register. _Wouldn't you like to know me when you aren't shoved between me and a wall?_ Was that him asking her on a date? Did Duncan date at all? Was she blowing the entire thing out of proportion?

She heard him call out for Scotty, turning her head to see him taunting the young lad with the bag, saying something about giving it to him later. Duncan walked to the door, and as he held it open he turned to look at Courtney, smirking before he left.

Her heart raced as she began an internal battle with herself over whether or not she should opt to go, take her chances with Du—meeting new people (_not going for him, no_). Tommy would be there, too, wouldn't he? Well, that wasn't completely reassuring however, Bridgette _would_ be there, and so would the vast majority of her other friends…so why shouldn't she go? _Torture and molestation by account of either creepy Tommy, although he isn't that creepy…why did I just think that? No, Duncan is the creepy one, why would I want to know him on a more personal level anyway? Hello, gross. I should stay home and do work, study. Who cares if it is a Friday, that has never mattered before!_

While a battle raged, Tommy nearly choked on his tongue seeing the punk get so close to Courtney. What in the _hell_ was going on with them, and why was it that _he_, a bona fide stud, was getting put on the side burner for a fucking 'rebel?' He was the jock that she had eyes for when she took the job, and _he_ was the man that told the owner to higher her. Injustices never sit well with the Manager, and he was unafraid to play dirty until things were his way. Poor Courtney, little did she realize that it was now war, and she was caught in the middle.

* * *

Author's Note: Well well wellllllllll. Guess who came back to update! Me! Haha, I hope I haven't lost all of my readers, that would be really sad and bummeriffic. University has been nuts, obviously, but it is break now so hopefully I can update for you all more than once within the next month. I had an awful block, I just couldn't get through it, and I am still pushing through. So if it seems rough and choppy it is because I am definitely rusty. Oh! I bet you all didn't see Scotty being a kid! Nooo, you thought that it was going to be even more competition for Duncan. Your plans have been foiled again! No smut in this chapter, no real smut at any rate. I hope I don't lose you guys because it isn't a total sex-fest, but that would kill the story. I know this chapter was everywhere and I just need to get my mojo back…Anyway….Feedback loved, and (realistic) ideas welcome, as always! I hope you all are wonderful.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The characters are © Fresh TV Inc. / Teletoon, but the plot is mine.

--

_"The covetous man is ever in want."_

Horace

Was she really going to do this?

_No. You are going to do that essay due next Friday. You do not have the time for this stupid idea. Hello, you are the class president! It isn't as if people will look up to you and respect you if you slack off! If you go to this, say goodbye to your wonderful reputation as a scholar. In fact: Stanford will not accept you if you do this, good bye Harvard Law!_

Ridiculous thinking. It wasn't as if she would be able to afford such an expensive school for an undergraduate degree, her father wasn't going to contribute and working at a toy store only filed funds up to where she could _maybe_ go to a small state school and have an apartment. That reminded her, she had to fill out another job application before she forgot. Grabbing a fluorescent pink post-it from her desk she fingered the pen that rest atop her ear, grasping it between her thumb and forefinger. "O'Mally's…ice cream store…application…due Wednesday the fourteenth."

Proud of her motion to not think about the social gathering that tempted her so cruelly, she stuck the post-it on her wall of equally fluorescent squares of tasks to do, in order, from when they were assigned and when they should be completed. Taking the pen, she tapped it against her lips and narrowed her eyes. Reaching up she plucked a few from the wall and balled them up in her fist only to deposit them in a bright green recycling box that she kept under her window. Silence filled the room as she occasionally balled up a task and repositioned it on the grid of sticky-notes. When she heard a squeaking outside of the door she could only assume that her father was moving about, and the thought of leaving for the night again resurfaced.

That morning she had accidentally forgotten to sort through the mail to retrieve her cell phone bill, and he had opened it while she drank her orange juice. Bad choice, wrong moment, absent-minded actions were never good. He hadn't been drinking and he was surprisingly calm about the entire situation, but the sigh and annoyed face that he held was one that made her want to dig her ceremonial sepulcher. It was then two-hundred questions about who she was calling, who she was hanging around, what she was doing texting those idiots when she could have been studying, everything under the sun was questioned. The class-action lawsuit that her father had against her social life was one thing, feeling a burning guilt for at least _trying_ to see friends was another.

It only made her want to go to the Butte that evening even more. A little bit of shocking teenage rebellion wasn't always bad, was it? She would have to go through flaming hoops of litigation the next morning (_or not_) but it would be worth it. Right?

_No._

Still, she began taking out warmer clothing that she could wear to the event, pulling a dark green shirt on over her camisole while maneuvering around her room in a systematic fashion. A swift look outside told her the night was crystal clear, yet she still opted to wear two more top layers as she knew that the nights in late November were far more brutal than anyone gave credit for. The weathermen be damned, she could predict the weather better than the entire lot of them. A gray sweat jacket that she ran in from time to time was the next layer, it was short and she only wore it under her large winter jacket that was thick, cozy, and tweed. Wait, when did she decide to go?

_You didn't. You were going to stay in here, like a good person. Dad will be worried sick if you leave now, sneaking out no less! Dear god you would think that Duncan had given you a brain transplant, rather than corner you and give you dirty dreams. You are throwing away your life, Court!_

In one night? Just one night, nothing could change. She should live a little, right? _No. No. No no no!_

As if in a daze, she grabbed her coat and slung it over her arm, reaching over to grab her purse as well. Unlocking her bedroom door she stepped out, locking it with a hooked key as she glanced around to the back door—her exit—to the house. Walking as quietly as she could she put her hand on the handle, only to hear a creak behind her and feeling a presence that said "turn around Courtney." Oh, wait, she didn't say that! That was, "Dad!" Jumping in her skin she turned around and grinned clumsily. "Dad, what are you doing out here?"

"I was just wondering where you were going. It's nine, dark out, and you have work tomorrow." She noted the slight slur in his speech and bit the inside of her lip before answering, "I know. I should have told you but it is Bridgette's birthday and she's having a small get together at her house. It was really irresponsible of me to forget." The lie fell cleanly from her lips and with a stark realization she knew that she was getting better and better at lying to people, was that a gift or a curse?

It seemed to work and he smiled, moving toward her as she tensed. He scooped her into a hug and it was clear as he held her to his body that he had been drinking, he was overly hot and clammy. "I have such a responsible daughter, don't I? God, if only your mother were around to see you." _Oh, no. Please I don't want this, not now. I just want to leave, out of all the moments you can vie for a heart-to-heart..._ As if feeling her not wanting an emotional incident he stiffened and removed his lock around her. "Nothing to say, hmm? Nothing changes you." He chuckled and took a few steps back, turning around and walking toward the dark living room that was illuminated with the glow of the television show. "You can never accept my compliments, you always turn into the same person Courtney." Guilt swept over her as she saw his retreating form, it was true. He continued prattling off reasons why she was a bad child, and she could not deny any of them. It was pathetic how he walked off like a scorned puppy, and she wanted to run into the living room to hug him, to ask for forgiveness, to hope that he would tell her stories of her mother like he had when she was a child. But she didn't, instead she stood there without a flicker on her face to note the conflict within her mind.

If this was any indication of how the night was going to turn, she should have just turned away and gone to bed.

Yet that would mean that she would have to turn around and go back into her locked bedroom, and being cramped in a room was unappealing. Jiggling the door handle roughly she jerked it open and went out into the brisk night air, the cold hitting her lungs in a rush that made her cough a few times to get the sting from the muscles in her throat. She didn't realize that the brief encounter with her father had made her heart pound to the point where it made it difficult for her to catch her breath. Navigating through the backyard to the front she realized that there was no way she was in any shape to drive, her hands shaking like leaves and the asphyxiating effect of lack of oxygen catching up with her lungs.

Wrapping her hands around her middle, she clutched her over-the-shoulder slung purse and began walking down the sidewalk. Forgetting the Butte momentarily she allowed herself to slow her heart rate, her steps measured and wide as she made her way in the general direction out of the neighborhood. It didn't even register how far she had walked until she felt the sidewalk end, a clear indication that she had reached an intersection. Popping her head up from her feet she eyed the stores she was by, looking behind her to see if she was alone in her reverie, and when she decided that she was safe she allowed her feet to walk her across the intersection with little interruption from cars. The Butte was something she could just forget about, a brisk walk was infinitely more appealing.

Turning on her heel once she crossed the street, her legs moved in tandem as she walked toward the Butte that was a medium sized lump in the distance. It was a long walk, did she want to go _that_ bad? _No._

A honk of her horn made her jump, and she turned her body around, the hyperventilation contractions of her internal organs fighting for a return. Scoping out her surroundings she judged that she was well within the safety of the sidewalk, so anyone who was honking at _her_ was clearly a nitwit. Still, she glared at the car as it pulled over to where she was standing and slowed to a stop. Did she look like a prostitute? _I swear to god if I get solicited I am going to jump off of the roof of the nearest building._ As the window rolled down she saw none other than…Tommy? Really?

"Courtney, what are you doing out at this time of night?" The smooth voice rolled out into the air and she shrugged, "I needed some air, you know? Staying in the house just seemed really cramped, and I just was wandering around." _That doesn't sound like you at all, Courtney. Hello, Class Presidents do not fumble over their words like you just ruined the English language._

It seemed as if she was not the only one that didn't buy the lame excuse, and an awkward pause was felt between them as she looked at his face and bit her lip. "Right. Want a ride to the Butte? I'm on the way there and it would be a lot quicker, and safer, if you went where there were a lot of people."

_He's just your boss, it isn't like he would try anything. It is just a ride to the gathering where the rest of your friends are, which is perfectly reasonable. It is better than walking around where you can be stopped by the police and asked if you are a prostitute or having the future deans of your university drive by and assume that you turn tricks behind a dumpster. Right, he's just being a nice guy. Everything is cool._ "Yeah, sure. Sounds great!" She heard him unlock the door and he motioned to the seat next to him with his thumb in a hitchhiking motion. "Hop on in."

Watching oncoming traffic she waited until there was a red light, and Courtney rushed to the other side of the car, opening the door and filling her lithe body into the comfortable seat. Buckling in, she realized that her hand was still shaking from the nervous attack she had earlier. Rolling her eyes at herself she leaned back in the seat, watching the outside as they began moving again. "You look frazzled, Courtney. I have a bottle of water that you could have, by your feet."

Looking over at his profile she noticed that he was watching the road, shooting a glance over to her and smiling, his beautiful pearly whites glistening in the car, "go ahead." Shrugging, she leaned over her knees to feel around for the water bottle, stopping only when she felt the thin plastic and the water slushing around inside. Sitting upright again she set it down in her lap, not really thirsty at the time, yet the gesture was still nice and it would be rude to turn him down. "Thanks."

The ride continued in relative silence, the odd comment falling through the air about how the weather wasn't rainy and dreary despite the time of year, or a question of how school was going and her plans afterward. It wasn't particularly awkward, but when they started on the incline to where the party was she could only let go a breath she was holding in relief. Hoping that she wouldn't have missed the start of the Hitchcock film, she looked around for the projector that they set up from time to time from the back of a large truck. A makeshift drive-in film, she knew that many people 'hooked up' under the scenes of the old movie yet Courtney could only hope that since it was a classic horror film that would be nullified. Who would want to hook up under the gaze of a charming and somewhat awkward demented killer who dressed up like his mother? _No one, you are in the clear!_

Tommy pulled in next to a dark blue Honda, the gravel crunching as he adjusted his tires for an easy drive after the shindig. Unlocking the seatbelt, her chain to the automobile that brought her there, she turned in her seat and offered a pretty smile. "Thank you, Tommy. You know you didn't have to do this, it was really nice of you to take time out of your ride to stop and offer me a lift." With a nod of his head, he waved his suntanned hand (_he always has such nicely tanned skin_) in front of his face. "Don't mention it, it would have been rude for me to leave you walking alone on a night like this, I wouldn't want you getting hurt." Returning the offered smile, he unlocked the door with his left hand, never taking his gaze from her form. Uncomfortably shifting, she nodded again and opened the door while swiveling her hips for easier access to the fresh air. "Thank you, again, I owe you."

Stepping out into the fresh air, she felt the cool air rush into her lungs, clearing her head from the warm interior of her Manager's car.

She felt indebted, however, she knew that if she were to offer herself in any sort of _way_ to make it up, she would certainly regret it later. _No, you do not know that. You are assuming the worst. Like you always do. It was just a sweet gesture and you need to get your mind out of the gutter and…and…bake him cookies. Yes, that will show that it is all water under the bridge and you are over yourself._

Bringing her hands down her abdomen, she smoothed invisible wrinkles in the jacket she wore. _Does tweed wrinkle?_

Back now arrow straight she leveled her head and felt the blunt edge of her hair scrape her neck gently. It was time to face the slew of people that were fixing up the projector on top of the (_possibly_) largest truck she had ever seen in her life, quite a few yards in front of it a few guys were tying a large white sheet up against branches of trees, laughing loudly about how the other guy was "fucking up the other side, what are you? Blind as a rock?" She couldn't blame him, there were tiki torches, fog lights, and the headlight of surrounding cars keeping the place lit but back by where they were the dark trees could only be lit with a flashlight.

As she spied one of the guys flipped out, falling out of the tree and shaking his limbs like a phantom flame had him by the gonads. Straining to hear what he was saying, she could only hear "whathefuckwasthatwasgonnakillmefuckthisshit!" It was mumbles, although he was yelling, and the lanky friends he had laughed harder, patting him on the back as they pointed the flashlight into the tree to reveal absolutely nothing initially. After a few moments, when the fellow student started to regulate his breathing, the culprit was found.

A raccoon.

"That shit has rabies! I could have died for Hitchcock! Not worth it!" His girlfriend, a pretty blonde girl, came over and must have said something that insulted his masculinity further because his friends erupted into laughter further, some gathering their guts in their hands as they hurled insults into the boy's face.

Courtney frowned at what she was seeing, biting her lip as the exchange continued brutally. She didn't think it was funny at all—raccoons were absolutely terrifying. Cute? Hardly.

It took soft, cold, hands covering her eyes to make her jolt back to the situation at hand. Removing after Courtney's high-pitched squeak, she turned her head to see Bridgette there, her cool smile and doe-eyes calming her nerves almost instantly. "Hey, nice to see that you made it! Come on, the movie is going to start soon." The light blue of her blonde friend's jacket made her stand out against the night, and as she gripped her hand to drag her over to the tables of snacks (_…corn nuts? Gross._), drinks (_alcohol, alcohol, alcohol…no water? Thank goodness Tommy gave me some…_) and a miscellaneous table covered with cheap blankets from a flea market, at least Courtney pondered as much, the standard red cup to house the booze on the previous table, and what looked to be a baseball cap filled with pregnancy protection. "Oh, Bridgette that is so sick!"

Her friend laughed, fading the amusement into a grin as she shrugged. "It happens, girl." Courtney bit her lip as she felt the undertone of _we all know you are too good to do anything as risqué as that_ coming from Bridgette's mouth. Not letting in phase her, she looked away as she saw someone sneak up on her cohort, none other than her current, Geoff. His tanned arm went around her shoulder and, as if expecting it, Bridgette just grinned and elbowed him lightly. The brunette smiled, but knew it was her time to bow out and grab a seat on the lawn with one of the blankets she was disregarding earlier—she was no one to intrude on the private time of a couple.

"Hey Geoff," waving, she grabbed a flannel, thick blanket that was heavier than she had anticipated, wrapping her arms in the layers. "I'm going to go grab a spot, talk to you later." Nodding, she turned around and walked away, not hearing Geoff's question: "Was it something I said? Dude, like, do I smell?" Bridgette only shook her head lightly, turning her head to look at the male equivalent of herself, "no way. Courtney's just…" a sigh followed, "being Courtney. Come on, let's go see the crew!"

All the while Duncan watched her, surprised that she had even decided to show up. Crouched on the back of some stranger's truck bed, he had one leg crooked to place his hand on his knee, the other holding a bag of chips. Noisily and without grace he chomped on the thin pieces of potato, wondering what he would do that night. He really wasn't in the mood for anything of the naughty nature, but by this time he expected that was all _she_ expected from him.

He, Duncan, being predictable? Something had to be done.

--

Author's Note: HEY EVERYONE! I am…uh. Not dead? This chapter was going to be much longer, but wow did my muse just die. The document has literally been sitting in a folder, untouched, for well over a month. I thought that I would post it as is—maybe some reviews from some lovely people will help me out? Maybe? Just a few reviews? Please? ahahaha

Regardless. It is choppy and really just a filler for an idea that I have, but I hope you enjoy it. Woooooooooo.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The characters are © Fresh TV Inc. / Teletoon, but the plot is mine.

_"Nothing worth knowing can be taught."_

Oscar Wilde

A relative hush fell over the crowd when Psycho began playing (relative, she noted, because there were still people chattering loudly up front, and women who were giggling under the ministrations of their boyfriends who couldn't keep their hands to themselves), and Courtney was watching with anything but rapt attention. Instead, her mind wandered and she found her fingers making abstract patterns on the quilt she sat on, picking it carefully as many of the others smelled like booze and it was awful. The score of Psycho caught his attention and she looked up at the screen.

_A Paramount Release_.

They were hushed by their girlfriends, but Courtney knew that they would talk during the film anyway, even though she hardly viewed Psycho as the kind of movie to get action during—she would not be surprised if they were getting to bases that they should have been getting to in the comfort of their own home.

_Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho._

Not that she could talk, after all, she had hopped from the starting line to second base (_God my sports terminology is terrible_) with Duncan the very first time that he touched her. Which sounded horrifically more scandalous than it was, because it was nothing, and she didn't care that he was ignoring her physically now; maybe this was his way of making her run to him like some prepubescent skank yelling _TOUCH ME TOUCH ME PLEASE TOUCH ME_, but it wasn't going to work, because unlike other women that he had no doubt caressed and used before, which she didn't want to think about, she would much rather be completely in the dark about his past relationships because it didn't matter. Not. At. All. After all, she wasn't pining after his laugh or wishing that she could talk to him; no no no, at this point in time she wanted nothing to do with him because he was rude and mean and frankly, a delinquent.

_Phoenix, Arizona._

That of course did not stop the fact that he kept floating up in her mind whenever she wasn't making sure that she _wasn't_ thinking of him; like now. She should have been thinking about her ride home (_where's Tommy?_) or how she was going to face her father the next morning when he was convinced that she was Satan's bride incarnate. Which would make him…the father of Satan's bride, which, considering he grew up in a very Catholic home, was not a thing to be. No _wonder_ he was always so angry at her, if she were in his position she would have enrolled herself into a religious school for troubled children by now. Well, maybe not, but it was certainly something to think about. Maybe she would make it up to him by dragging him to church on Sunday instead of working. No, no, she needed the job and she needed the money.

_Friday, December the Eleventh._

Courtney sighed and drew her knees up under her chin, wrapping her arms around the jean-clad appendages; why couldn't he just relax and enjoy the film? After all, that was why she came out that night. To relax, and enjoy the film. No, now she was lying. Perhaps, in a very small part of her mind, she went knowing that it would be a different night, that something was going to happen that was important. It was a gut feeling—which was completely irrational and not something she should have been judging actions on, but regardless, she did.

_Two forty-three p,m,_

It was a strange feeling, looking at the screen but not watching what was happening, not hearing what was being said—she was grateful that the dialog of the film had not started. Why? Because she was going insane. Clearly and clinically; she had basically jumped off of the nearest mental cliff. And now she was over-exaggerating.

"_You never did eat your lunch, did you?"_

It was only after the first line of the movie that she began to pay attention, seeing the half naked man standing next to the "protagonist," of sorts, only she knew what fate awaited the woman and the man because she watched this movie with her father at family reunions when she were younger. At one point in time, the movie scared her. Now she was fascinated by the lines she knew by heart, the words that she found herself mouthing as they appeared on the screen.

"_Sam, I hate having to be with you in a place like this_."

There was a wrestle beside her, she was going to assume that it was nothing but someone passing from one end to another while looking for an empty blanket, only it wasn't over as quickly as she assumed and soon she felt a presence settle beside her. She whipped her head with an angry quip preparing mentally about how someone should "ask before they just assume they can sit down," but before it found its way out of her lips, she was met with light eyes and an infuriating grin. Suddenly her heart beat too fast and she felt her fingers curl around the flare of her jeans, but after that brief moment of surprise one could see Courtney setting her jaw at a harsh angle while she narrowed her eyes. "_What_ do you think you are doing, Duncan? Can't you see I am trying to enjoy a film, which I can't do if you are sitting there with that hideous smirk and terrible ideas."

"_You make respectability sound…disrespectful."_

Duncan grinned, half expecting her to get up and run but knowing that she wouldn't move, that she was going to stay there. This was, in a sense, backpedaling from what his initial approach of shove-against-the-locker-seduction (as he had coined it and when he was writing a memoir he would write in detail about just how he felt; then again, if he didn't want to end up on the banned publications list, perhaps he would have a g-rated version of 'place-up-against-the-locker-for-a-kiss-on-the-cheek' which didn't have nearly enough of a ring to it to make him happy). Instead, his grin widened into a smile and he shrugged, "you _assume_ I'm going to throw you down onto the quilt and do terrible things to you. You don't know the first thing about me."

He looked at her for a minute, the dim light of the black and white film highlighting her features barely. "Then again, you never wanted to know me, hm? I ruined _that_ for you, oh, your poor squeaky clean reputation." And it was true, even as they were talking she began looking around to see if anyone had caught them together, and she was scooting away from him as he spoke. It was wounding to know that she liked him when he was doing sexual things to her inexperienced body, but when it went beyond that she was more awkward planes and angles. Heaven forbid the Princess of primp be seen with someone who went outside of the box to accomplish his goals—which he _did_ have, contrary to her beliefs.

"_Oh, it'll pass. Headaches are like resolutions—you forget them as soon as they stop hurting."_

Courtney let out a "hmph," turning her head to watch the movie, refusing to look at him and dignify him with a response. Why? Because it was _true_, and she knew it—she had assumed that he was going to be a bad guy twirling the mustache of evil while tying a fair maiden to railroad tracks, cackling with laughter at his sinister assault. Only…she was the fair maiden (not so fair), the railroad was in fact a quilt (much better for the back when she would lay on it), and instead of ropes that bound the girl together, it would be his _arms_. Oh no no, she needed to distance herself, and very quickly, because these weird fantasies she had regarding villains taking advantage of her were not doing it.

Turning her head to look at the offending human being, she glared and could not stop what came out of her mouth if she tried, which she didn't, "Who is to say that there is anything worth knowing about you _Duncan_? You are a rude ogre that gets off on the idea of being different and a rebel for no reason. It's trite. It's stupid. And it's frankly not worth my time to delve into." With a nod of her head she turned and looked straight forward, huddling her body tighter in order to further distance herself from him and what she had just said.

"_Yes, I didn't intend to sleep so long. I almost had an accident last night—from sleepiness—so I decided to pull over."_

Duncan felt his face fall into a scowl, his nostril quivering slightly at her insensitive reaction to him. His heart pounded fast at the injustice that she dare deal him when he had worked so hard to make _her_ happy, but that wouldn't be good enough. He would have to think of something to draw her back, because as it were now—they were on completely different playing fields and she had barricaded herself within hers. He turned his face to the screen to mimic her position, training his eyes onto the projection to not only calm himself but to make sure that he could think of another rouse for conversation.

Had he ever been one to roll over and play dead just because the goal he had in mind was slightly repositioned? No, Duncan was the type to readjust his strategy and get back onto the field. So, he would readjust and return with a different technique.

"_There's an old saying: First customer of the day is always the most trouble. But like I say, I'm in no mood for it, so I'm gonna treat you so fair and square that you won't have one human reason to give me—" _

He felt a grin appear over his wide-set lips, how apt of a quote.

Taking a deep breath, he began again. "I understand that I am not worth your time, but you are well worth _mine_. I know that you didn't know me before this year, but we _did_ meet before, despite what you want to think—"

"Duncan, I don't know what you're trying to get at, but—"

Sighing he looked at her with stern eyes, "no, let me finish."

Seeing that she was subdued, he continued on with his little story, and she stared at him as if he had grown an extra appendage, yet she was interested because he seemed so _intent_. Arching an eyebrow, she turned her head from the film completely.

"It was fourth grade. Sometime in the spring, I don't remember—all that I remember was that it was a Monday because I fucking hated the first day back to classes which still hasn't changed, and it was the first class in the morning. I was sitting in the back of the class and you came in and you had your hair short for the first time—at least I think, I transferred in the third grade so I wouldn't know before that, but that was when I first noticed it was short.

"It was a real cute style, and you had bows and shit in it. Heather saw it first and pointed at you and laughed, saying you looked like a little boy." He paused, arching an eyebrow and noting how she suddenly looked sick, as if she had some sort of skeleton being dragged up from the grave at this mention, "yeah. You remember that day.

"Anyway, you began to cry and you ran out of the room." As he paused to think of what to say next, Courtney took the opportunity to voice her opinions—technically it was not interrupting.

"Thank _you_, Ogre, for bringing up that wonderful childhood memory of mine. You are such a wonderful human being to make me relive my childhood horror." With her mood taking a dramatic nosedive, it wasn't surprising that Duncan began initiating damage control. But, as she looked at him, she got caught on the fact that he was _smirking_, while retelling one of her worst moments of her life involving social collapse, made her unbelievably angry, but just as she was moving to get up, uncurling her body to stand, she was halted by his long hand curling around her wrist. When she looked over she saw a pleading look on his face, which was only cemented when he spoke next, "Courtney, hear me out here."

"_I better have a look at those papers, Charlie."_

"Why, exactly, should I stay for this?"

"Well, if you leave—your curiosity will drive you insane, and frankly I don't want to be pining after someone who needs to be in an asylum."

_Pining_, he was _pining_ after her. For Duncan, this was the first verbal acknowledgment to someone else about his feelings, and for Courtney it was the first time she had ever heard such a term of want in regards to _her_. It made her feel special, and for that, she sat fully back down onto the quilt. However, she felt particularly parched and reached for her water, unscrewing the plastic lid and taking down a gulp of the lukewarm liquid—which she regretted because nothing made her more parched than lukewarm liquid.

"_Anyway_, where was I? Right, fourth grade, you were crying because Heather was being the same mean spirited bitch she always was and will be, and I wanted to see if you were okay. Well, truthfully I wanted out of that fucking class because the lazy eye the teacher had freaked me out—so I used you as an excuse..but! I did end up going to see if you were okay because you had run off to the library, by the way, is that your natural habitat? You are in there so often. Anyway, I went to see if you were okay, you've probably blocked it from your memory.

"You were…in the section with all of the fairy tales and shit, and you were huddled up beneath the table crying and ripping the bows out of your hair. You told me to go away, but I stayed there and I told you that Heather was just jealous because she looked like an enraged gopher. You looked at me for a second and then laughed; you told me I was a doofus, and that I didn't know anything because I was a weird boy—but I remember it, clear as day, because it was in that first moment that I realized what a pretty girl looked like."

Courtney was at a crossroads of confused and flattered now, her eyebrows scrunched together as she recollected the memory, for she was _indeed_ there, because she remembered him saying that and her slandering him for the very first time. The sentiment of his story was sweet, but she didn't know where he was going with it, which he caught onto because when she opened up her mouth again to talk he raised up his hand and smiled.

"You, Courtney, effectively stirred the pervert in me. So, next time you call me a pervert, remember that you started it all." His lips slipped into a smile and he shrugged, "so maybe next time I toss you against a hard object and assault your lips, you'll remember that it's for _you_ just as much as it is for _me_." Laughing now, he shook his head and shrugged, leaning back on his arms. "Princess, you know it sucks but I do know a lot about you."

Curiosity piqued, Courtney arched an eyebrow as if challenging him, ignoring the whole deal about him being perverted because of her, because frankly the ides was alluring and freaky bundled up into one package. "Alright. Prove it."

Seeing that the bait was taken, the felonious male smiled and began; "I know you used to like Sailor Moon,"

"Every girl did, I was always—"

"Sailor Mercury, although you fit the bossier _Mars_."

"You're rude."

"You like it."

"Shut up."

"_I'm sorry. I didn't hear you in all this rain. Go ahead in please."_

"Your favorite color was—and I assume is—green,"

"It's a good color! Indicative of nature and life!"

"You hate delinquents who enjoy wearing black and breaking rules,"

"You are going to get me into trouble one day, besides, _hate_ may be a bit strong."

"I am, happily, the bane of your existence, right up there next to Heather, at any rate,"

"No one is up there with her, Duncan, don't be like that…"

"You've never been to a high school dance,"

"I've never been invited and they all seem pretentious and phony _anyway_. Nothing like the air of too much perfume and fake puppy love to make me want to vomit."

He paused, shaking his head. "Speaking of, you don't know how to let go and have fun."

"That depends entirely on your definition of _fun_."

"Touche, Antigone. I also know that you used to ride horses."

"How on Earth can you correctly reference Sophocles? And how do you know about me riding horses when I was young? I think you are a stalker." Crossing her arms over her chest, she was pissed that he was so right, and getting agitated because for some reason she was getting a headache. Reaching again for her water, she took a gulp of it and shook her head, feeling like it was filling up like a sink and she wanted it drained.

"I'm sorry I'm not that much of an _idiot_ and I actually _read_, that was never an issue. I just never did the assignments that went along _with_ the books. And don't flatter yourself princess, those were just the obvious things. Real obvious, like for the horses. You know you had so many tackily drawn horse folders—"

Courtney interrupted him, a disbelieving smile on her face for him daring to attack here horse folders because those were sacred. "For _your_ information _doofus_, _every_ girl had those binders, only they had the tacky sea creatures version. I was better than that."

"I was losing faith in you until you swapped them out for the generic brands."

Leaning over she punched him in the arm lightly but unable to stop her smile that bloomed over her features—she had to give him credit for making creepy analysis somewhat charming, "you are a complete jackass. You have no respect for horse folders." It was nice, unlike many of the other times she was with him, this conversation didn't make her completely nervous (_well, _ that may have been incorrect, because sitting next to him was making her heart beat and drumming butterflies within her stomach—or maybe she was just starting to feel…sick, why did she feel sick?) Blinking a few times, she felt her eyelids get heavy, but she propped them up momentarily by bringing her hands up to rub her eyes. She didn't feel very well; and Duncan noticed. He tilted his head to the side and squinted, the darkness made it somewhat difficult for him to realize what was wrong with her.

"_You—you eat like a bird."_

Even through the black and white light, he could see that she did not look well at all.

"Hey, Princess, you feelin' okay? You know my mom is a nurse and she should be getting home with my cousin soon enough if—"

Courtney looked at him, but she turned her face too quickly and suddenly there were four of him. "Oh no, you are going to take me back to your house and have your way with me; I'm not going to be raped, tonight."

Duncan shook his head and sighed, "Courtney, I've been quite forward with you, I assure you I wouldn't drug you to have my way with you when I could have you _willingly_. You look really, really bad Dollface; I don't want you _dying_."

Shrugging, Courtney tried to stand, only to realize that the world was _spinning_, or was she spinning? She couldn't place or distinguish one from the other, and Duncan quickly stood up to steady her before she fell and hurt someone else sitting around; looking at one of the surrounding couples he shrugged and made a motioning with one hand rocking in front of his lips that portrayed that she had _a little_ too much to drink, even though he was not sure what was wrong with her at all.

Surprisingly malleable in his arms, he looked around and leaned down to whisper in her ear, "alright Princess, you've got my attention. I need a _little_ help here though, so don't pass out." Courtney responded by standing up slightly, but leaned into him heavily, grinning wide as she looked up at him, "you _smell_ nice_, _and _feel_ nice…" Staring down at the petite woman, Duncan grew very concerned and looked around for his truck, leading her over to the automobile as she stepped awkwardly, which made it increasingly difficult for Duncan to pass her off as someone that was _not_ drunk and _not_ some skank that he would take home to have his way with. Fortunately it was dark out, because if it weren't he was sure some mean spirited bitch—Heather—would spread a nasty little rumor that would make Courtney never talk to him again. Not exactly what he wanted.

"_Well, it's—it's more than a hobby. A hobby's supposed to pass the time—not fill it."_

As they reached his truck, he opened the passenger door and she spilled into it, muttering incoherently about upholstery or something along those lines. Looking around again, he leaned in to buckle her seatbelt before reaching into his pocket to dial his mother, bringing it up to his ear while waiting for her to answer; his attention was refocused onto Courtney though, as she smiled lazily and motioned for him to come forward. Leaning in slightly, he listened for what she was going to say.

"You ogre, I never really hated you."

Just as he was going to dignify that with a response, he head the click of someone on the other line; "Baby! I'm sorry it took so long, it took a while for me to hear it since it was on vibrate. I thought you were at a party? Is something wrong? Are you hurt? Where are you?" The intonation of a worried mother was starting to flood into her voice and Duncan sighed and closed the passenger door, moving over to the driver's side.

"No, mom, everything is okay, but my friend…I think she got drugged or some shi—something, because she's acting real drugged and since you're a nurse and—"

He heard silence on the other end as he slipped into the interior of his car, clicking his seatbelt into the opposite side as he heard her reasoning it in her head. "Honey, you should really take her to the hospital. Maybe she just drank too much?"

"No, Mom. Uh…_Momma bear_, please."

That was what did it, which was quite good for him, because as he looked over to Courtney, he saw her mouthing something that he couldn't understand, her lips moving wordlessly to something. He leaned over to listen, and he could faintly hear:

"_I think that we're all in our private traps—clamped in them. And none of us can ever get out. We—we scratch and claw, but only at the air—only at each other. And for all of it, we never budge an inch."_

With that, he started the ignition.

* * *

Author's Note: Hey, remember last author's not when I said I wasn't dead? Hahaha…well, I'll repeat it. I'M NOT DEAD. Contrary to popular belief. I have just been getting my muse out in other ways, and when I should have been working on this for my good and loyal fans, I even started a new fanfiction (enter shameless plug for _A Bitter End_, by me, Moofins; I don't have a lot up yet…it is just a vent for my creativity and I would love love love for you to read it), which also has power play and shit in it but I just didn't update this. To make it up to you, I pumped this out. If it isn't up to par, I'm sorry, but I need to get back into the swing of things. Oh, and the quotes? ARE INDEED from Psycho. Genius movie. Go see it. RIGHT NOW. :)


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The characters are © Fresh TV Inc. / Teletoon, but the plot is mine.

_"I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, _

_I am out of control and at times hard to handle. _

_But if you can't handle me at my worst,_

_then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."_

Marilyn Monroe

When Courtney was ten years old she was riding her bike through the woods nearby her house after school, she wore her helmet securely around her head (because she always thought that having your hair messed up was a lot cooler than a severe brain injury), and thank God she did, because if she didn't her flip over the sidebar and subsequent fall into a blackout would have ended much, much worse. However, when she hit that large rock-slash-pothole-slash-deathtrap she flew over the metal of her bike and right into the ground before her—or she guessed. She didn't remember what happened, obviously, because of the darkness that encased her and the pain that shot through her arm.

She woke up in the hospital, as somehow she managed to get there (later she was told that someone also riding their bike through the woods found her unconscious on her back in the middle of the road with her front tire severely bent and her helmet cracked down the center). Her arm was broken and apparently she had a bad concussion; it took two months of wearing a cast and a bottle of pain meds to get her through the ordeal, but it made her avoid any sort of situation where she could possibly experience the same thing, in hindsight it could have been part of the reason why people saw her as such a shut in. In short, she was. Out of fear of getting hurt in a physical way.

This was important because she was experiencing the very same sensation, with a few changes.

There was a silence in her mind, and she was floating, flying without wings, and even though there was a dull throb in her prefrontal cortex instead of in her arm, she felt at ease. Or did she? _No…not really_, she reasoned, she didn't feel at ease at all because it was _cold, _(_but dry_) and _dark, _(_so empty_) and _black,_(_ or is it more of a dark blue?_). When did it turn black? Why was she in a black place where there was no light, and nothing comforting, with her just floating on without any particular place in mind for a destination?

Then again, she'd have a destination if she knew where she was.

Was this limbo? Or purgatory? Or some sort of religious ambiguity that she should have remembered from when she used to go to Sunday school?

No, not quite.

As her eyes began to open, she was struck with the intense brightness of the room, followed quickly by the fuzzy outline of a frame on the opposite wall. Color seemed to flood back into her vision, as well as detailing, and it didn't take two seconds for her to realize that this was _not_ her home, this was _not_ a home of anyone she knew, and that something was _very_ wrong.

A sound of a strangled gasp choked out of her mouth as she sat up suddenly, only to instantly reach for her head at the pounding rush of pressure that went from the back of her skull to the front in a tidal wave fashion. The gasp turned into a groan of pain, and suddenly someone was _talking_.

"Oh, honey are you finally awake?"

Courtney's head turned to look above the couch (_who…what couch am I on?_), only to see an averaged sized dark haired woman rushing over to her with a glass of water and what looked to be Advil in her hand. "You must be very confused, hmm? My name is Stacy, and you should probably take these."

The skepticism on Courtney's face must have read loud and clear, her eyes narrowing at the _suspiciously cheery _woman. After all, no normal person would be _that happy_ to tend to a stranger unless they were trying to _murder_ them. The woman named Stacy's smile faltered, and she nodded her head with a sigh.

"Let me start over. My name is Stacy Mahone, Duncan's mother, and you are in my home. I'm a registered nurse, so _no_ I am not trying to kill you, and if I may offer some advice, I would say do not partake in _whatever_ you were doing last night, because darling I was worried for a second." Offering the water again, Courtney thought for only a moment before taking it, as she poured some between her lips she was struck with how everything tasted like sandpaper. It then hit her, and she paused taking sips of water and brought down the lukewarm glass from her lips. _Duncan's mother_.

When in the hell did she get to Duncan's house? Panic began to set in.

Stacy must have been a good read of people, because she reached a hand out to pat Courtney on the arm. Offering a sweet smile that Courtney instantly realized as a mother trying to sooth a child, she found that it was surprising her by actually working.

Silence passed between them, and after another prod Courtney accepted the Advil and managed to get it down after a few attempts. Not long after, the blue eyed mother (_that must be where Duncan gets it_) gaped and hit her head lightly. "What am I thinking! You haven't eaten anything and you've just taken asprin. That will do nothing but terrible things to your state of mind, after all, no one can think when they are nauseous!" With a dorky laugh that had Courtney cracking a smile, the somewhat short woman ran off into the small kitchen to make, what looked like, toast.

Nothing sounded more unappealing.

Courtney attempted to stand up (and after three tries, succeeded) and slowly made her way over to the small island in the middle of the even smaller kitchen, sitting on one of the barstools gingerly as she set the glass of water (which she had been cradling against her chest) onto the countertop.

Stacy paused in her movements, taking the glass of water to refill it from the tap while offering another comforting smile. "Darling, I don't mean to _pry_, but I still don't know your name, sugar." It was then that Courtney realized that she was not only being rude to the kind woman, but the woman had such a heavy southern accent that did not reflect on her son at all. Also, she wondered how such a pleasant woman could have such a terrible and horrible man for a son when she seemed so pleasant and sweet.

"Courtney. My name is Courtney, ma'am."

A smile spread over Mrs. Mahone's lips and she clapped her hands together. "_You_ are Courtney! I should have _known_. My motherly intuition must be failing!"

Courtney, who had been trying to take a sip of water but was suddenly struck with the idea that this woman knew _about_ her, when she really shouldn't have had the faintest idea. "I beg your pardon? How do you know about me? Not to sound ungrateful, but it is kind of creepy."

A slow grin appeared over the short woman's lips as she leaned over the counter,, and Courtney nearly expected her to turn into the Cheshire cat with such a movement—_that_, she had definitely passed onto Duncan. "Just between you, me, and the floorboards, I like _you_ quite a bit more than the others. He seems to be in such high spirits, if not sometimes frustrated. Then again, it's always good to keep people frustrated for a certain amount of time before realizing the game they are playing. It's so fun…oh, how I _miss_ the dating game."

It still wasn't making sense to the short haired girl, and frankly, her head was still hazy and she was talking _way too fast_ in a _Southern accent_. "No, no, Stacy you don't understand. Me and Duncan aren't—"

_POP_.

The toast.

Stacy reached for a napkin and gingerly put the dry toast on top of it, setting it in front of Courtney. "Of course you aren't. My son has never really had luck with relationships, but _I_ can dream that he'll be with a _nice_ girl. Some of the girls he has shown interest in before…well, I just don't know. Thank goodness you look like you don't only shop in the dark and depressing section of every clothing store this side of Birmingham!"

_She was from Alabama._

"I wish Duncan would wear nicer clothing. Eight skull shirts and countless baggy pants later…I've lost him." All in jest, the woman was a regular beam of sunshine, and Courtney was thoroughly entertained.

It had been a while since she had spoken, and with an ungraceful crunch into the Rye toast Courtney found that it was the perfect opportunity to speak (with her mouth full of crumbs and the large piece of toast already half eaten). "Vhere ish Duncansh anyvaysh?"

"Oh, he's out with Scotty. They went out of their way to go to the grocery store. Duncan was so worried about you last night, he barely slept, and naturally because his older cousin couldn't sleep, Scotty couldn't sleep either. I do think he's a terrible influence on him sometimes."

A pause.

"After all, it isn't as if the world needs _another_ Duncan Mahone." Another good natured laugh and a toss of her head as she went rummaging through the shelves for noodles, only to open up the fridge to take out milk and cheese. "I hope you like macaroni and cheese, Courtney, because with our current supplies that is the only thing that we will be able to make. And even when they come back…Macaroni and cheese has always calmed Scotty down into a nap, and he needs to sleep or he will be a nightmare this afternoon." She now seemed to be talking to herself, and Courtney took the initiative to move off of the barstool and go looking around the living room a little.

The toast went with her. Over the past few minutes it had easily become the most delicious thing she had ever. _Ever_. Eaten.

She began looking at the framed pictures that were now perfectly in focus, in contrast to when she had first woken up and they were just blobs on the wall. She saw a young dark haired child with a young looking Stacy, she guessed it was Duncan. She saw what seemed to be a family reunion. Duncan's school photos through the years (she would note that the photos through the years in ascending order were in this order: cute, less cute, kind of awkward, full blown awkward stage, the punk section of the store was finally discovered, thank god that piercing was removed, and the last one was the one she was hesitant to judge, as it was probably the most recent. She then decided that he looked…just as attractive as he did in everyday life. And frankly, she wanted to _damn him to hell_ for looking so good in photographs as well).

In her analysis, as she moved on from the solo photos or photos with his mother, she realized that something was of. Something was missing. There was absolutely no father figure, at all.

Of course, as she was analyzing the wall, she only vaguely heard the door by the kitchen open, only to see what looked like a walking milk jug walk inside with a young boy complaining about how heavy it was but he could _"handle it because I can do it Auntie! I PROMISE_._"_ Scotty was home, which only meant that Duncan was a few seconds behind.

Suddenly, the progress she had made to overcome her nausea was all thrown out of the window, and she wanted to _faint_ with nerves. What exactly had happened last night? What had he done to her? What had she done to herself? Dear god, she could only hope that she kept all of her clothes on. She heard the baritone of Duncan's voice, slightly muffled by what he was carrying in as he walked through the door, three paper bags of groceries in his arms as he set it on the small island in the table which looked even smaller in comparison. No, he hadn't seen her over the mountain of groceries when he first came in, which she was thankful for, because in her perspective she watched as Stacy pulled him down to give him a kiss on his cheek as thanks, and his long fingers thread through the mop of blonde hair that his cousin had as he said that it "wasn't all me, mama, he carried half of it."

They exchanged a few lines, and after a pause in the conversation, Stacy hit him lightly on the wall. "Duncan! Haven't you forgotten something?"

Immediately he looked through the groceries and then shook his head. It took his mother pointing to the living room, where Courtney stood with her piece of toast awkwardly by the family portraits for him to realize what he had forgotten. "…Courtney. You're awake."

In hindsight, this was a side of Duncan she was not used to see it, and she would be able to pinpoint it later on. He was caught off-guard, and looked somewhat dumbstruck. "Ah…uh—how are you feeling?" Taking a large gulp of air, she watched his Adam's apple move down his throat, awkwardly, she added with a shrug: "fine."

The silence that followed couldn't have been more than five seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Thank god the youth of America couldn't take such silence, because Scotty immediately ran over in his hyperactive manner, a grin spread on his face as he stuck his hand out as if to be shook. "HI! I'm Scotty. _You're_ the pretty lady that was at the toy store."

_Good God_, Courtney thought as she let a smile come over her face, _does everyone in this house know who I am?_

Courtney kneeled down to Scotty's level, and then she accepted the handshake firmly. "Why, thank you Scotty! You are very charming, you know." She didn't see Stacy's grin or Duncan's roll of his eyes, for they both knew what she had gotten into with flattering the child in such a way. She only noticed that when Scotty rolled back onto his heels and clasped his hands behind his back that he was _mischevious_. "I _know_. But did _you_ know that charming boys and pretty girls _always_ get married. _That's_ why Prince Charmin' ALWAYS gets his girlfriend because he's the MOST charming. I'm basically your Prince Charming, you know."

The brown haired girl couldn't contain it, and began to laugh. "Oh Noble Prince! Are you the one that took me here?"

"Yup. It's my castle for the week. I have one in Hawaii if you'd like it more. But you know, it's like Duncan always says, you can't always show people what you have in your pants because then they know what you're playing with."

(Up until this point Duncan had been discussing something in a very low voice with his mother, head dipped low as he looked positively flustered. However, upon hearing this he immediately turned his head to his cousin and shook his head, only to cough loudly and clear his throat, in which case Scotty quickly retracted his statement and laughed saying that he "knew "what he was talking about, but _she_ wouldn't know because she "cooties." This, of course, did not stop him from asking her for a kiss because he saved her and brought her to his castle. Courtney found this all very entertaining).

"You would like a _kiss_ my dear Prince? But you just said I had cooties!"

By this time they were both sitting on the floor and the groceries had since been put away, and the two Mahones watched in interest as she interacted with the tricky blonde boy who could be endearingly persuasive but was ridiculously stubborn underneath of that childish charm. "Some cooties are good cooties. And it's only fair that I get a kiss for saving you."

Courtney feigned her best dramatic sigh and shrugged her shoulders, letting a smile grace her lips. "Fine. I'll give you _one kiss_. On the _cheek_." To emphasize her point she tapped her own cheek gingerly. The young boy sighed as he realized that was all he was going to get, and turned his cheek to her expectantly. Leaning in, she let her lips hit his rosy cheek and she made a big MUAH sound with a pucker that made the boy's day, as he stood up and smiled. "First comes a kiss THEN comes everything else!" It was at that time that Stacy intervened and picked up the young bundle of blonde energy, "come _on Casanova_. Let's let Duncan and Courtney talk, hm? After all, while the mac and cheese is cooking we could probably call your mother. I'm sure she misses you."

Sighing dramatically, he allowed himself to settle in the arms of the woman, only to give another dramatic toss of his head and asked to walk. "Auntie. I've had a kiss. I'm a MAN now, and I can walk on my own."

As they walked back into what Courtney guessed was one of the bedrooms, she realized her foot was asleep, and it was only until she saw a hand being offered to help lift her up that she realized the predicament she was now in because of it. "Come on _Princess_, we have a lot to discuss, and…you can probably use the fresh air of the back porch."

"My foot is asleep." She was stalling, but _also_ telling the truth, a full proof plan.

Leaning down, he placed his full lips by her ear. "Dollface, you can either make an effort to stand up for us to have a civil talk, or I can pick you up and take you wherever I would like."

While the second option did sound tempting for a split second, she soon realized that there were a _lot of fucking questions she had_ and not _nearly_ enough answers. She took his offered hand and with a somewhat painful hurl up into a standing position, she realized that he had effectively placed her into a very cozy grip where one arm was wrapped around her waist as she was led toward the door outside.

"I hope you realize that your day has just begun."

* * *

Author's Note: Hope you enjoy this. :) for those of you who inquired, the quotes are in order but over the span of the movie; it was my attempt to create some sort of timeline throughout the chapter because I'm all for something that makes it easier for me to write. This chapter was a long time coming, but I've been really busy and I'm glad that I still have fans if you are out there, haha. Oh—and another shameless plug, please read my other story (_A Bitter End_)! I haven't updated it for a while, but I've been working on it and it's where my real inspiration lies, I feel, because I can go down so many routes where I sometimes get lost with this couple because they aren't mine, completely mine. PS: I know you all want another makeout scene. Well. Hold your horses. Good things come to patient people. (:


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The characters are © Fresh TV Inc. / Teletoon, but the plot is mine.

_"I've learned that people will forget what you _

_said, people will forget what you did, but people will _

_never forget how you made them feel."_

Maya Angelou

"For your sake, Ogre, I hope that this day goes completely and utterly _normal_."

The door creaked loudly as Duncan twisted the handle and jolted it toward him, swinging it inside so they could venture out into the morning that was chilly, but not terribly cold. "Normal is so _boring_, Princess."

Courtney pulled away from him, her messy hair from her dreamless sleep the night before whipping around as she twirled to face him. "Duncan Mahone. Let me lay this out for you, I went to the first social gathering for me of the year last night and got drugged by some unknown assailant during one of my favorite movies where I discussed how much my arch-enemy knows about me and how he has really been pining after me since I was too young to realize what the female reproductive organs were for, _only_ to wake up in his house after said drugging the next morning where I was subsequently chatted up by your mother, who told me far too much about your dating life and who happens to be a nurse and happens to be one of the most pleasant women I have ever met in my entire life and I don't understand how _you_ can come from her, and hit on by your toddler cousin who is _far too much like you_."

Considering Courtney had not taken a singular breath in her tirade and her voice had gone up a few octaves by the end of the statement, she took the next few moments to take deep and soothing inhalations that would hopefully sooth the lack of oxygen she had received in that time period. She would have been substantially calmer if it weren't for Duncan's shit eating grin that he had as he crossed his arms to look at her.

She was egged on by the movement, so she decided she would continue until she felt better about the entire situation, following his trail as he began to walk past her, down the four stairs, and across the barren backyard (save for an attempted vegetable garden that had weeds overgrown inside, not to mention the vegetables would be out of season and therefore matched the rest of the depressed landscape). "Don't you turn your back to me you impossible Ogre! I'm not finished!

"I don't like the way that you have not been looking at me lately after giving me way too much attention that you _knew_ would have me craving your weird perversions—"

He kept walking in a steady pace, feeling her form follow him across the crunchy grass from the frost that morning.

"I am _tired_ of everyone treating me like some incomprehensible prude that can't tell the difference between water and a date rape drug, because that was obviously a one-time occurrence and _will not happen again_, ever, so get that thought out of your head before you hatch a new plan to QUOTE-on-QUOTE—"

Even though Duncan was not looking he could see the finger motions that made obnoxious quotations in the air.

"seduce me!"

He stopped at the far fence and leaned on the picnic table that had—clearly—seen better days, "and _finally_, I don't even know what time it is and I have…"

Duncan narrowed his eyes to skim over her features, that were generally becoming more and more frantic as seconds ticked on, she was now gaping and bringing her hands up around her head to thread through her hair. "Oh. My. God. Duncan, I have work today. No, worse yet, my father doesn't even know where I am. Oh my god, he's going to kill me. He's going to lock me out of the house and I am going to get kicked out of school because I can't afford to pay anything and I won't be able to get a job because I don't have my interview or working clothes, and…Jesus, Mary and Joseph all of my _textbooks_ are at home!"

Let it be noted that Duncan would have found this entire situation comical except for the peculiar shade of green and red that Courtney was turning as she began to hyperventilate, moving her hands to fan her face in an attempt to cool herself down and calm her breathing before she went into a full blown anxiety attack.

The delinquent took his queue to go comfort the idol of his pining, removed himself from his position against the table to walk toward her, and gently took both of his hands to encase the side of her head, leaning his forehead against hers so he could attempt to be as sincere as he possibly could, as he figured that was the best way that they could move forward. _Duncan, now is not the time to piss her off even more._

In his calmest voice, he began. "Courtney."

She wasn't listening and she was still mumbling incoherently about a test she had before the term ended for winter break and how Tommy was going to fire her because she didn't take her work seriously. Duncan attempted again, with a little shake of his head against hers. "Courtney, listen to me." Still no response. Fed up, the boy rolled his eyes and intensified his voice slightly, "_Courtney!_ Listen to me. Your father and Tommy both called you this morning on your cellphone." Her brown eyes widened with utter fear, but he was sure to clarify. "My mother answered it. She told Tommy that you were feeling sick and she was the mother of a friend of yours, which is basically what she told your father."

Her heart rate was considering returning back to normal. "How did they take it? Just…wondering." Her voice was getting lower and she felt somewhat faint, thankful for the fact that Duncan was holding her up, or at least providing stability. "Tommy gave you the day off and your father seemed perfectly fine about the whole thing." Duncan removed his large hands and put them in his pockets roughly, "he was just worried about you, is'all."

It was at this time, in order to get her attention and focus away from the middle of his chest, she took in her surroundings. They were surrounded by fields and hills, trees and farms littered the distance. They must have been at least twenty minutes outside of the city she lived in. Awkwardly, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Well then…thanks."

Grinning, he backed up a bit and sighed, rocking back and forth on his feet, encased in the stereotypical 'rebellious footwear' that every punk had to purchase to be in the 'in-crowd' of radicals. After a moment, his grin faded, and his eyebrows furrowed. "Courtney, where did you get that water bottle last night?"

"Tommy gave it to me. Why?"

He shrugged loosely, his eyes belying his casual nature as they squinted in thought. "No reason. I left it there when I brought you here. Hope you won't miss it too much, 'cause I doubt it'd still be there."

"Littering is a felony."

"It was _your_ bottle, Princess."

"Shut up, Ogre."

Duncan enjoyed the silence between them, as she stared off into space and was mentally preoccupied, but Courtney thought that the silence went on far too long, and she could hear the tick-tock of a mental clock for every second that passed between them. She shivered.

He noticed. He always noticed. He could read her surprisingly well, more than she could probably figure out herself. There were a lot of attributes that he had that would be an asset to her life, such as the attention paid to her that had never been before, and a sense of him pampering her when she needed it, simply because he would be able to tell she needed it. However, that did not stop her from orating the incarnation of everything he despised about her.

When she opened her mouth, he could tell by the way she straightened her back and arched her eyebrow slightly that it wasn't going to be good.

"Whatever is happening here…is not going to happen. Ever."

The grin he held on his face faded instantly, and he arched an eyebrow as she met his gaze.

"Never, Duncan. I will never be with you. I can never be with you. It wouldn't work. We're too different and things like this just don't work out. It would end badly for both of us."

He scowled and felt the edges of his mouth turn down. "And how are we different?"

"I can't be with someone who doesn't take his future seriously. I won't be with someone who gets his kicks with sick thrills and piercings and tattoos."

"So you aren't going to give me a chance because I don't meet your fucking dress-code?" She noted how his entire body tensed. Encased in a black long sleeved shirt and dark jeans, he almost appeared to be a panther, getting ready to say adieu to the unfortunate prey before him.

However, Courtney's brown eyes followed suit with the scowl that he had from earlier and never lost, "don't play dumb with me. You know what I am getting at."

"Spell it out for me. Since I am such an incompetent moron who doesn't know what he is going to do with his life, I need things like this explained to me. Bit-by-fucking-bit."

"Don't be rude, Duncan."

"Don't fucking tell me what to do and just tell me the real reason you aren't going to be with me. None of this goddamned bullshit about my clothes." His fists balled up, only for him to force them open again. "Tell me. I want to know how you _really_ feel."

Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath, feeling the building tension between them. "Do you want to know why?"

"Yes."

"I am going to be president one day and I don't need any stupid delinquent holding me back and ruining my reputation. I will _not_ explain why my other half is a failure. I will _never_ condone being with someone who only _take_ and never _give_. I will never be with you Duncan. You stand for everything I despise."

Tremors of anger ran through him as he stared at her, a malicious smirk coming up to take the place of his frown. "Thank you, Courtney. Thank you for presenting the most pretentious rationalization I could think of. Thank you for taking the side of every other motherfucking person. Thank you for not coming out of your shell to try something new. Thank you for being just as vapid, shallow, and useless as every other prick who is too high on their horse. And thank you for wasting too much of my time."

She stilled, and watched his body shake slightly with restraint. Swallowing a large gulp of air, she suddenly felt that sense of relief she had at telling him "how she felt" turn into something ugly, that reflected that it wasn't how she felt at all. "Du—"

"Shove it, Courtney. Get in the truck, I'm taking you home."

Without looking at her he began to walk to his truck, wordlessly, he opened the door and stepped in, slamming it behind him. Slowly, she made her way over to the passenger side and into the dark vehicle. Snapping in the seatbelt, she let out an uneven breath. "Du—"

He started the engine with a loud purr and violently shifted the stick into drive. Duncan could think of ten thousand things he wanted to do right now than drive her home, he was pissed, and the last thing he needed was the girl who just crushed his childhood dreams sitting within a close proximity. This must have been what hell felt like. His frustration turned itself into a sick form of adrenaline, he wanted to yell, scream, and do something awful that made him get his "bad-boy" reputation to begin with.

Instead, he was driving home a snob. He knew she was a snob. She had _always_ been a snob, he just didn't realize how badly it would feel when she would drive a nail into his cranium that showed just how much she cared about someone other than herself or her future.

Meanwhile, all Courtney could think about was how she made a bad situation exponentially worse. Was it weird to feel numb about breaking someone's heart? She had never been in a situation like this, and she hated it. Especially since she saw just how much he was hurt, and how ruthless she had actually been with the comments that were only dramaticized with hope that it would draw him away because that was what she _thought_ she wanted.

Duncan impatiently thrummed his fingers on the frayed leather steering wheel, his foot tapping on the ground. Courtney noted how his jaw was locked, his eyebrows furrowed—mainly because the light kept glittering off of the barbell piercing he had that was facing her from that side of his profile. It didn't take much for her to ascertain that he was frustrated and pissed off, and it was at her.

She didn't want to admit that what she said was rude, because it felt good to say it. She didn't want to admit that she was feeling regret, because he deserved what she said, completely and fully, for what he had been doing to her in their last year of high school.

Which was, of course, turning her into a hormonal female that deeply desired a romantic stimulus after years and years of being able to contend with the idea of being an old woman with a bunch of cats. Now the idea sounded awful, and she wanted nothing more than to watch inane romance movies and read vapid love stories that she had avoided for her entire life.

Of course, she really didn't want to admit that she enjoyed his physical presence, and was learning to appreciate his mental presence as well. He wasn't an idiot, which shocked her. He seemed relatively literate, which was even more shocking. And she didn't even mind his choice of clothing as much anymore because there were things that counteracted the contrived skulls and crossbones, like his scent, smile, the way the hairs of his goatee scratched her chin when they kissed, and…

"I'd appreciate if you didn't look at me, Courtney."

Courtney's eyes widened as she realized that the entire time she had been _staring_, and immediately turned her head to look straight ahead. His voice was bitter and on a singular note, and it even sounded as if he delivered it through gritted teeth.

It was for the better, right? After all, if she was going to be president one day she did not need to have dirty laundry in the form of a dirty and phenomenal romance with a delinquent who couldn't hold a job or pass a simple high school level class. Even if he was just what she needed right _then_, but if it would hurt her future it wasn't worth it. Right? She had to be the level-headed one in the situation because obviously he was not going to give her a rational explanation for what was happening between them and what their future was going to be.

It wasn't that she didn't like him, on the contrary, she just had to think of her future. Everything was at stake. She couldn't lose her head. Not now.

A sign on the left side of the road caught her attention, and Courtney's heart began to pound. "Duncan?"

"What?"

"Turn into the park."

"No."

"I need fresh air."

"Then open the fucking window."

A dead pause.

"Duncan."

"Courtney."

"Please?"

Another stretch of time and an impatient sigh later, Duncan moved to put his hand on the clutch and change gears so they could turn into the entrance of the sanctioned state park. After going down the winding street to the parking lot, he pulled into a spot and abruptly turned off the ignition and flung off his seatbelt with a click. He didn't look at her, she audibly gulped.

"Aren't you going to get out?"

"Are you playing a game with me, Duncan?" Her heart was beating erratically against her chest, a flapping bird that had been caught by unforgiving fingers of metal.

After a moment of absolute stillness, he laughed, actually laughed. His head was thrown back against the seat and he shook his head, a smile on his mouth that denoted nothing nice. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm being serious."

"And I haven't been?" He turned to her, a look of seriousness on his face. "How fucking into yourself are you to think that I have been lying and using so much of my time coming up with ways to get you to know how I feel, just because I think it's a game? It has never been a game to me. I should be asking you, since you seem to be taking a lot from our encounters and not bothering to reciprocate any sort of emotion back like some emotion-hungry bitch."

"How dare you call me a bitch, Duncan! What the hell do you expect? It isn't as if I'm used to someone going around and half-seducing me up against books and lockers! This is a new situation. Hell, before you I had never been kissed and all of a sudden I'm feeling these really…weird emotions that I'm not in tuned to and you are there as the start and end of all of my problems." She had turned in her seat to look at him, her face turning red with both embarrassment and anger. "You say I'm the selfish and conceited one. Did you expect me to just fall in love with you just because you know how to make me feel good?"

"Frankly, yes. You just said it yourself, _make you feel good_. That is all I've ever wanted to do. Ever. You just need to sit back and enjoy life before it's all gone and you're married to some rich snob who wouldn't know a vagina from a bagel and cream cheese."

It was now her turn to laugh, "so this is all a favor to me? Thanks, but no thanks."

He arched an eyebrow, "do you know how many years I've liked you Courtney? If this was a game you would have known, I would have used you and tossed you like I do most other girls. But no, I compare every girl to _you_."

The truck occupants fell silent as they measured the task at hand: what was going to happen next?

Courtney felt the spotlight of the world on her as he watched her, and she wondered, when she fell from grace, would they create an effigy of her? Regardless, she finally gave into an impulse and extended both of her arms to steady herself on his shoulders, pulling her body to his in a graceful swoop (_thank you yoga)_, only to press her lips tightly to his own.

No words were spoken as no words were needed. Their mouths opened in unison as they pushed and pulled deeper into each other. Courtney was suddenly very glad she was thin as he used one arm to move her so she was straddling his waist, and she arched shamelessly into his touch, using her hands to grip his shirt, run across his neck, tangle in his hair—they never settled anywhere. Their tongues battled, and it was only when Courtney trapped his tongue in her teeth and sucked on it lightly that Duncan groaned.

The sound rumbled against his chest which passed onto her, and she decided instantly that she enjoyed the sound.

Reputation be damned, she could get used to being pressed up between Duncan and any hard surface; metaphorically speaking, she knew that it was all so wrong, but as he ran his hands up under her shirt, where one moved across her back in a solid and confident motion while the other moved slowly over her ribs where it lightly touched the border of her bra, she could not care.

She gasped. He took control. She wanted more. He could tell.

While he used his tongue to kiss her as if he were a dehydrated man and she were his oasis, he moved his curious hand to push up her bra on her chest, where he covered the exposed breast with his hand and gently fondled it. It was times like these that he wished they were not in public; not that he had often kissed women like this in the front seat of his truck in the middle of broad daylight while being parked out in the open.

She pressed her body closer to his, leaning her head back and he broke away and placed his lips on her neck, where he licked, kissed and sucked—she knew she would have to cover it up with makeup the next day, but couldn't be bothered with reasoning in that moment. It all felt so _good_, how could it be _bad_?

Head thrown back, she moaned his name, which only made him more excited, and she could _tell_ by her position on his lap. In a way, it only made _her_ more excited to know that she must have been doing something right in this unknown realm. She then saw the windows, which were getting clouded with their exertion. Righting her head, she used her hands to pry Duncan off of her neck, and when he questioned her with a look, she leaned down gently to his ear while wrapping her thin arms around his broad shoulders, "we can't do this here. We're fogging up and we'll be caught unless we leave."

Unfortunately, he saw her rationalization. "I don't know your address."

"Will your mom have any macaroni and cheese left after Scotty gets through with it? I'm really hungry."

Duncan smiled at her slow invite back over to his place, "he eats like a pig but they'll be plenty for you." His fingers, still under her shirt, pulled the bra back down as he kissed her neck lightly. "I'm not finished with you, Princess."

"I should hope not," Courtney moved from her position on his lap as he removed his hands from under the thin cotton shirt, "but this doesn't really solve anything."

The sour point couldn't make the grin fade from Duncan's mouth as he shifted in his seat and moved to buckle back in. "Don't ruin it, Courtney. We gotta get out of here before the cops catch me here. I'm on strike two, anyway."

Before she could question what he meant, he started the engine and threw the vehicle into reverse.

* * *

Author's Note: I know you all have been waiting for another kiss with them. Hope that satisfied your cravings for now—even if it is just a tease! :) Also, thank you so much for all of my religiously reviewing followers! It means the world to me! It's so nice to see that people have left you reviews and it's so nice to know that people are reading…it really makes me want to write better chapters for you all. Of course, shameless plug, check out my other story.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The characters are © Fresh TV Inc. / Teletoon, but the plot is mine.

--  
"_You don't have to say _

_I love you to say I love you._

_All you have to do is say my _

_name and I know."_

Jodi Picoult

Courtney knew that she had been in the wrong. As she was shifting awkwardly in the seat, curling the hem of her shirt between her fingers as she smoothed the material with her thumbs, paranoid that their near romp in the truck had caused unseen damage that his mother would be able to smell off of her, coming in waves. Her heart pounded as she watched him re-round familiar turns that she was watching him take as he was taking her home. She was in a haze then, strangely, now, she was in a different sort of haze.

Before, her fingers were having issues curling and uncurling at her side. Now, she felt a strange numbness that was engulfing her from the outside-in. She could only think about how she did not know what she was doing and he was urging her to let go control, relent some of the pressure she had boiling in her mind, while the rational side of her mind was telling her that this sort of a situation never happened in real life because reality did not read like a poorly written and cliché-ridden made for MTV movie.

Yet, there she had been. Earlier in the day she had a fight with Duncan, only to make up in the seat of his truck with more gyration than she was used to. After that she was laughing with his mother about her job and how hard things sometimes are over reheated leftover macaroni and cheese while Duncan was in the other room playing a violent video game with his cousin. She could hear Duncan cuss occasionally, which prompted a "Duncan Mahone you better not be corrupting that darling bundle of innocence in there! I will come in and play watchdog, young man!" which was shortly followed by, "yeah yeah, momma bear. I hear ya.'"

A few hours went by and it felt like minutes. It seemed funny how at the times when you need the most time, time seeps away from you the quickest.

At the time she thought it was normal and nothing was strange, but now all she could think about was the look his mother had when they came in through the door, her hair still slightly mussed and Duncan's face coated with a grin that she had to have known. It radiated off of them, whatever this sty of an affair was, and it scared her to know that it was so obvious to others what was between them. It would be obvious to everyone. People at school, strangers, her father, her co-workers…

Duncan was now taking her home, his fingers tapping on the wheel like always, but not in an irritated way, as the tune he was tapping seemed to be along the lines of _Marry Had a Little Lamb_. Maybe she was misconstruing it because they did not listen to the same types of music. Perhaps, now that she thought about it, it was some strange Scandinavian death-blood-metal-whatever-band that did not appeal to her in the least that seemed to appeal to him in a cosmic way, who had lyrics that would likely give her nightmare, but just happened to have a bass that was strangely like the riddle.

The more they turned on that road the more she felt nothing, no pain, no joy. She was unaware if she was happy or sad, or whether this was all some sort of cosmic dream.

_I'll figure it out later_, Courtney shifted in her seat. _I have to think about going home and seeing my father. Oh god, what is he going to say about Duncan? Jesus, Mary and Joseph see me through this. This can't be the end of my life as I know it. No wait. Yes, it can. This is the end. Goodbye._

As if sensing the influx of panic, Duncan turned his head to Courtney and brought his right hand to push on her shoulder. "Princess, you awake? You look pale. And that is saying something considering it is dark out and I can hardly see you." Smiling, he turned his head to her, and then back at the road. "I can practically smell your strange nervousness. I'd say it's hot but it doesn't smell good."

"It doesn't smell _nice_. Use proper grammar. I'm fine, Duncan. I was just thinking."

He shrugged, bringing the hand he used to push her to scratch the back of his scalp, feeling the slight textural difference between the colored hair and the natural.

"Whatever. We're almost there. Where do I turn in town?"

"Franklin Street. It is the house with hedges and my car in front of it."

"Gotcha."

The truck sunk into silence as he maneuvered the streets, until he hit a red light and found the silence maddeningly abrasive. The slight pitter-patter of his hands hitting the steering wheel was not generating enough noise to quell the feeling of his gut, which should have been contentment at making leaps and bounds towards Courtney _not_ hating him and finally being his girlfriend but wasn't.

"You gonna be alright, Princess? I know you're worried about your father blowing a fuse."

"If he hasn't been drinking, he'll be fine."

"Ah."

_Nice going, dumbass._

Courtney was always the type to stay to herself, in some matters. Lord knew that she could not get enough of politics or whatever would put her in front of a large enough crowd for her to impress with her 'clearly superior intellect,' but when it came to normal matters, such as home values and opinion polls on how her family functioned (even those pointless fucking newspapers that circulated the school had occasional polls such as 'how often do you have dinner with YOUR family in a typical week?' Or 'how many hours in a week do YOU spend with your family?') the short haired girl was absent.

He supposed that he was no better. When someone had a reputation like him, no one bothered to get to know them because after a while the rep did everything for you. He heard a few stories that circulated, such as him stealing from his mother to buy dope or meth, stealing candy from babies, sleeping with fourteen year olds, or, his favorite, being the gunrunner for the local gang. Duncan was the first to admit that he was shady on more accounts than one, but there was no way in hell he would get himself in a situation where he would be killed. Not for himself, but because his mother would literally haunt him to death in the afterlife while lecturing him on how she was heartbroken and how her baby boy was everything the town said about him.

If he did something like that, die irresponsibly without making a name for himself, he would be proving everyone right.

Being the stubborn ass he was, there was no way in Satan's hell that he was going to grant this god-forsaken town that gratification of knowing Duncan Mahone was killed in a gang fight, or what have them. He would prove them all wrong.

Including the girl next to him. She was number one on that list to prove wrong, with her eye-rolls and infuriating way she denied him when he was trying to connect with her on a level that was not one that had her nailed up against a steering wheel, with her crotch up against him.

_A-hem_, not that he _minded_ that part of it. He knew _she_ liked that part of the bargain, too.

Pulling over to the side of the street that marked the end of their journey, Duncan cut the engine and looked over at Courtney, who sat there for a few moments not registering that they had reached the destination. Her eyes were glazed over as her hands melded with the hem of her shirt.

Duncan felt a lump in his throat.

"I can go in with you, if you're that freaked. I hear I'm _great_ at hospitality and first impressions. Must be the piercings and hair."

Courtney blinked, the words registering slowly as she shook her head. "No, I'll be fine. I was just spacing out. Scientists say that important decisions are made while you are daydreaming because you become wholly focused at the task you are thinking about and are completely ignorant of your surroundings. I was merely using that time to formulate how I was going to complete all of my homework before Monday, since I spent so much time with you. Not to mention I have to shower and do my yoga and laundry, my entire schedule had to be reworked to fit you in—it took time."

It was now time for Duncan to blink.

"Thank god you could squeeze me in, heaven forbid."

Courtney sighed and unclicked the belt, "I didn't mean that, so don't twist my words. At any rate, Ogre. Thank you for the past few days. As much as I don't really know what happened because I haven't had time to process it…well, it certainly has given me a lot to think about."

A light went on and she turned to see that the front-porch lantern-shaped light had been illuminated in the orange-yellow hue everyone knew.

For the first time in her life, Courtney was _that girl_ being spied on by her father while outside with her maybe-boyfriend-but-more-like-a-bad-influence. This really was like a MTV movie gone bad.

Leaning over, the petite girl kissed Duncan on the cheek lightly, which he returned by bringing a hand up to the back of her head and kissing her lightly on the lips. It was short and sweet, which had Courtney pulling away awkwardly when he grinned and leaned an arm on the steering wheel. "Thanks for the ride home. Hm, uh…Yeah, I'll…"

"You'll what?"

That damned man had the cutest grin on his face, like she had given him an all inclusive and paid trip to the largest candy store in the world for a shopping spree. It was completely distracting.

"I have to go. Oh. And finish your homework for class on Monday. I still retain what I said before, I do not date or make-out with failures and drop outs."

With that, she opened up the door and slipped out in a fluid motion. She could see the silhouette of her father across the dew covered lawn, waiting for her inside. The grass was suddenly an inky green ocean that she did not want to traverse, there was something deep in the pit of her stomach that told her tonight was going to be different.

"Courtney."

She turned her head, the door still open and in her hand. She expected a quip about how she was letting out the warm air in his car, but smiled and blushed when he said:

"You know, I'm only a phone call away if you need anything at all. I swear I'll be there as quickly as traffic laws will allow. Nah..Probably faster than that."

She nodded and closed the door, turning to see her fate on the inside. Her shoes slid into the damp ground as she walked, squeaking on the wet grass. It seemed like a long journey, but it was only when she had a foot in her white door did she hear the graveled purr of Duncan's truck as he left her neighborhood; it was a distinct sign that it was time for her to compose herself and face the music, no matter how badly she wanted to run away.

* * *

Courtney was imagining the worst. She thought about how she was going to be grounded, banished to some menial task, kicked out of the house, or worse: not allowed to go to college.

To her surprise, her father was waiting in the living room, but seemed perfectly content, if not happy that she was finally home. He was not drunk and was still dressed in the clothes that he wore to work. He had the face of a man that was worried sick not long before and was just now gaining color back in his face, or maybe it was the puffiness of his eyes that were throwing her off.

"Who was the boy in the car? Was it his mom that called me?"

"Yeah, she's really nice. I'm really sorry I didn't call, I don't know what happened last night, but I felt so sick and luckily Duncan's mom was a nurse so she could take care of me."

His voice was slightly wobbly, as if he were standing on one foot and attempting to balance on a curb.

"She seemed like a lovely woman."

It was silent for a span of time, perhaps seconds, maybe minutes, before he spoke again. His voice cracking at the edges.

"Oh, my Pumpkin. I thought you had run away. I—"

Her eyebrows knit together as she was melded to her place. Puffy eyes? Had he been crying? It had been years since he called her 'Pumpkin,' and meant it.

"I woke up this morning and, and… you weren't here and I remembered what I said to you last night and I just thought you had left. I thought you left me and it was all my fault." She watched his chest begin to rise faster, his face turning red in a tell tale sign of emotions welling inside of him. Courtney instinctively went to him as he sat on the chair ottoman, putting his head into his hands as he lightly shook. "I thought you left."

It was another kind of avalanche that was falling over Courtney, the idol of male in her life up until a month or two when Duncan made his grand appearance, was breaking down in front of her because he thought she left him alone. He was crying, and she sunk to her knees in front of him while he rocked.

She took his hands in her own and felt tears well up in her eyes as she looked at his pained face. "Daddy, no..I just went…"

"I thought I'd never see you again, because of what I said and how I've been treating you. I'm so sorry, Courtney. I'm so sorry."

Was this really happening now? Of all times, this was when her father was going to apologize for years of emotional abuse? It was a moment where Courtney, despite her want to be hate filled and reject the emotions welling inside of her, felt that it was now time to act like a daughter more than ever. If anything had been taught to her in the past few weeks, it was that she had to do some serious damage control on her personal life before she left and made a name for herself. If she didn't know who she was there was no way she could stand on her own and it turned out that she had no clue who she was at all.

Of course, she was still the same Courtney Callahan that strived to be the best and held her grades in high esteem. Still the same petite girl that occasionally went to a yoga instructor but mostly did the moves clumsily in her own room. Still the same girl who wrote everything down in a planner and then placed those on sticky notes on her wall because it was a form of organization she created when she was twelve.

She was just learning that there was more than that. In her whole life she factored out the _people_ aspect. She had friends who loved her, she was sure of it. She had teachers that respected her, or maybe loathed her.

In a familial sense her life was tattered, and up until Duncan she was sure she would never _like-like_ someone, or maybe even love. At least not in that way.

As her arms went around her father, her voice cooing that it would be okay, that everything would be okay and they would work it out and survive, she began to realize just what deep shit she was in. Courtney needed to stand up for herself against the cold and driven part of her mind and say that she deserved a break, or she would crumble. If she was ever going to stand on two legs she needed to reapply mortar the foundation.

"I can never be your mother, but I promise I'll love you the best that I can, from now on. I can't lose you like that. I couldn't live with myself."

Tears now fell down her face, drop by drop.

Duncan could wait.

Tommy could wait.

School could wait.

The world could fucking wait.

Courtney was cracking and for the first time in her life she felt as if it were time to be completely honest and open with herself. She needed this moment with her father more than she needed any goddamned scholarship or school acceptance letter. More than sex or friendship.

For the love of everything she held dear, she needed her father.

And he was finally there to catch her when she fell.

* * *

Duncan may have given the appearance that he was going to drive all the way back to his house, but instead he drove about a block and pulled out his cellphone. Taking a long moment to dig through this pocket, the search continued until his long fingers found the edged of a small crumpled up piece of paper. It was a receipt from that morning.

He stared at the back of the receipt, twirling it around in his fingers, bending it at the edges and smoothing them back out. On that glossy paper were seven digits, scribbled in his unintelligible handwriting, in pencil, which made dim marks on the slightly plastic coating of the shopping remnant. Still, he could clearly see the indentations of the numbers—that which he did not need considering he had been chanting the number in his head for a good part of the day.

Tapping the edge of his cellphone, the mental battle he had in his head waged for a few minutes. He weighed out the positives, the negatives, and the importance of the matter regardless of the first two aspects.

Without a further thought he began dialing the number, holding it up to his ear as it rang.

It was dark out, but the night was young.

* * *

Author's Note: OH SNAP. WHAT IS GONNA HAPPEN? WHAT WENT DOWN? WILL DUNCAN EVER GET THE GIRL? WILL COURTNEY FIGURE OUT WHAT IS UP? WHO KNOWS! Just kidding. I know where I'm going with this. It is just going to take a few more chapters for dear old Capitulation to come to an end. Meanwhile, I'm a terrible author and leaving you all with chapters that are hardly cohesive. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I know it is short, but it is short for a reason because. Well. It was a really great way to end the chapter before the upcoming plot details. This chapter…well, has no real intimacy and focused more on character development. Which is also good!

Also, if some of the traits don't mesh completely, personality wise, that is because I only watched TDI, and basically nothing from the start of TDA-on. Bear with me. Thanks! :)


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